


Blood Traitor || Draco Malfoy

by sprintingfox



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Death Eaters, Draco Malfoy romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Good Draco Malfoy, Murder, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Quidditch, Ravenclaw, Sprinting Fox, The Golden Trio, The Golden Trio Era (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 102
Words: 389,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25501651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprintingfox/pseuds/sprintingfox
Summary: Raised by ex-Death Eater parents and godparents, she was expected to one day serve the Dark Lord. But after discovering why her sister had really disappeared, she broke off onto her own path, unaware of what she would lose in the process.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Katherine Thompson, Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 114





	1. Prologue

_AUGUST 31st, 1991_

**It wasn’t until the bludger whacked her in the face that Kit realized how much she hated playing Quidditch with Draco Malfoy.**

“You’re a bastard child,” said Kit coldly, rubbing her now bloody nose. She only succeeded in smearing it over her brand new sundress. Of course, perhaps it was her fault for wearing a dress to play Quidditch, but she would never own up to the fact.

“Not my fault you can’t use a bat!” retorted Draco, already rushing over to make sure she was alright. She was, of course, having landed her broom smoothly out of prior experience. He, however, still worried.

“I told you I wanted to play Seeker, arsehole!”

“KATHERINE CORDELIA THOMPSON!”

Kit groaned and turned around, seeing her mother glaring at her furiously from the house. The young girl wasn’t even considering that the scolding would be from her careless use of foul language. Someone like her mother wouldn’t care. She knew what she was in trouble for. 

“Yes?” Kit asked in the sweetest voice she could muster. She had no problem being falsely respectful with her mother. The vile woman didn’t deserve the real thing. 

“I thought I told you I didn’t want a single stain on that dress!”

“There isn’t a single stain, there are several stains, so I think I followed your rules,” Kit growled without hesitation. 

First mistake of the day: being born, even if that was technically eleven years ago. Second: not controlling her tongue. Kit wasn’t expecting her unfortunate birthgiver to retaliate as immediately as she did, but then again, she didn’t really know her mother, did she? 

The woman apparated toward her, also without hesitation, and slapped the already bloody girl remorselessly, hard enough to make her cry out in pain. Kit felt as though she’d had hot soup splashed on her face. Even if her nose wasn’t completely broken, it hurt like hell to get hit so near the area.

Her mother stormed back toward Kit’s godmother, Narcissa Malfoy, who looked over soundlessly. Draco didn’t say a single word, he just stared at his best friend, not daring to speak up against his godmother— _her_ mother. Kit had always found it so utterly basic that they’d traded mothers as godmothers. But at any rate, she and Draco respected Narcissa. Neither she or Draco respected Alison Thompson. 

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately once both women went back inside. “That’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” mumbled Kit dejectedly. “Don’t worry.”

The blond boy offered her a handkerchief, and the brunette took advantage of it to clean her nose before sitting down. 

“This is probably the worst birthday ever,” Kit noted. “Perhaps worse than my fifth one, when I met you all for the first time and those awful Macnair boys threw me into the cake. I got in trouble for it, of course. I always manage to ruin a dress, and my parents’ mood. I swear, I couldn’t walk the whole next day after the beating father gave me.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco said yet again, a slight wince apparent. “I shouldn’t have brought my Quidditch set. I know you’d said you wanted to go to the pond instead. Your dress wouldn’t have been ruined, then.”

“It’s fine. I do like Quidditch, I just hate being a Beater.”

“We can go to the pond now,” suggested Draco, looking back at the house. “Our mothers probably went back into your drawing room and I think your father is still showing mine the new wing.”

“Okay,” replied Kit, removing her shirt to reveal an unstained undershirt. “Might as well wash this.”

The two eleven year olds walked quickly and carefully down the stony path around the Thompson Manor, into the tall grass that separated the house from the pond that Kit had grown up playing in.

It was a relief to get a full escape from the adults. The Malfoys visited every year for her birthday, as did other families. It was late already, and the others had left, meaning Kit got to spend time with her best friend. She didn’t comprehend why her father insisted on celebrating when he cursed the day she was born so much. Why did parents even have children they didn’t desire? 

However, Kit wasn’t about to blame herself entirely for that. On August 31st, 1981, her first birthday had not been the only significant event. That same night, her elder sister had disappeared.

Kit had never been told exactly what had transpired that night. All she had ever known was that it clearly caused her parents, as well as the Malfoys, tremendous panic for a while. But eventually, that had faded, and since then, her parents had only spoken in detail of her sister in hushed tones when they assumed Kit was asleep. She never quite managed to hear what it was about. But their tones were clear: worried, devastated, the entire array of emotions a parent can feel when their child is taken from them.

Not that Alana Thompson had been a child. She was already eighteen, and married, to young Rabastan Lestrange. She had been born just a year after their parents married in 1962. Kit was ashamed to know what came before that.

Her grandparents on both ends had been some of the first to serve Lord Voldemort when he came to power. Her paternal grandfather, Douglas Thompson, had been the one that suggested to his at the time best friend, her maternal grandfather Vincent Smith, that their children should marry. Thus, the same year that young Tom Riddle began his journey at Hogwarts, Kenneth Thompson was born, and the year Tom Riddle graduated, Alison Smith was born to seal the deal.

That wasn’t the only component, however. Kit and Draco had discovered through eavesdropping that when Douglas and Vincent rose to serve the dark wizard, they had been the first to propose that they begin grooming their own children to continue filling the ranks. The cruel man at the head of the table had liked this, and soon, the original families became legacies that served the corrupt bastard up until his disappearance. 

But the war had begun just after Alana’s birth, once Kenneth and Alison had settled in as new Death Eaters. They had held off on having another child. For a time, Alana had been taken to live with her godparents, the Lestranges, and a friendship had blossomed between her and the youngest Lestrange son, Rabastan. Eventually, Alana and Rabastan had gone through Hogwarts as best friends, unknowingly betrothed to one another, and eventually, they had wed. 

As Kit and Draco trudged to the pond, the brunette couldn’t help but wonder what tomorrow had in store for her. As much as her parents neglected discussing her sister, one thing was blatantly clear: Alana had been the perfect child.

Absolutely radiant, the best possible combination of the Thompson and Smith genes. Brilliant, with top notch grades and a status as Slytherin house prefect, and eventually Head Girl for all of Hogwarts. Narcissa herself had whispered to Kit several stories about her sister, how everyone who met her adored her, how she had been a good example to several young girls growing up.

Kit supposed that to be the truth. It had been instilled in her that a Thompson had to be perfect. A Slytherin. A proper lady. Someone who didn’t complain about what life threw their way, especially not arranged marriages. Her family seemed to like those. 

But the truth was a funny thing to Kit. She had been conditioned to believe certain things that didn’t make complete sense. The days she’d snuck out and managed to hitchhike to the nearest Muggle village to see if she could find other children, she had noticed that they weren’t vile as her parents made them out to be. 

By that logic, what else were they lying about? Kit wondered it often to herself. As well as she and Draco got along, he would never share an opinion with her. 

Once the children arrived at the pond, they sat at the edge and dipped their feet in. Draco let out a sigh of relief and flopped back, while Kit knelt down to rinse her face, before wetting the dress to remove the blood.

“What house do you reckon you’ll get tomorrow?” asked Draco, splashing his feet and causing drops to flicker onto Kit’s face.

“Slytherin for sure,” responded Kit, without hesitation. “Mother says I have to get that or I’ll be disowned.”

“Well you’re a Thompson.”

“And you’re a Malfoy.”

“No one in our families has ever been anything other than Slytherin.”

“Well, Draco, that’s not entirely true. My father said his brother was Ravenclaw.”

“Isn’t that the same brother your grandfather disowned?”

“Oh yeah. I forgot.”

He let out a small chuckle. “I’ll be Slytherin too. I’m glad at least I’ll know you tomorrow.”

“Well you know those awful Crabbe brothers, even though the younger one probably won’t attend Hogwarts until we’re seventh years. But Vince is our age. Oh, and Greg is our age too. And Blaise, though he doesn’t talk to you much.”

“Goyle and Crabbe aren’t as fun as you,” Draco said simply. “And Blaise is moreso your friend, not mine. You— you’re my best friend.”

He reached his hand out, and Kit took it. Their palms smacked together briefly, before connecting their thumbs and hooking them up to flip their hands away, and finally bringing their fists back to collide together.

“Since the womb, literally,” Kit mused. “Even Ollivander mentioned it yesterday when we went to Diagon Alley. Said our wands ended up being next to each other in the shop because our mothers were ‘bump buddies’ and whatnot.”

“Barely. Your mother didn’t even know you were in there until after my mother had her bump. That’s why I’m three months older than you.”

“Oh, shut it,” retorted Kit. “Three months is like a day.”

“You’re just sore that you’re young, you know,” Draco noted. 

“Well I’m taller than you.”

“By an inch! Girls hit their growth spurts early. I’ll be taller than you at least by third year.”

“What if you’re defective and you never grow?”

“I’d be willing to do Dark Arts to grow, if it comes to that.”

Kit squirmed uncomfortably. The Dark Arts weren’t a subject she liked to delve into. She had heard such terrible things about them when Draco and her spied on their parents’ gatherings. Spells that tore people apart. They all seemed to enjoy it, and Draco was indifferent. 

But not Kit. A shudder passed through her as she set the dress to dry. It just didn’t sit well. All the fantasy books she snuck in had made anything dark be villainous. It made sense. Why then, did her parents relish in it?

She had much to learn.

Kit chose to change the subject. “My wand is better than yours”

“No way!” retorted Draco, always up for a challenge. “Mine’s the best. Father says hawthorn and elm are the best wand woods. I have hawthorn! And I have a unicorn hair core. Ollivander said it’s reasonably springy too. I heard that’s better for spells!”

“Well mine’s black walnut wood and my father says it’s good!” Kit argued. “It’s like my sister’s wand! But mine has a dragon heartstring core and unyielding flexibility. That’s admirable!”

“Shut up,” said Draco with a small grin. “Mine’s better and you know it.”

Kit just scowled playfully and flopped back, laying beside him and staring up at the sky as they kept splashing their feet in the pond. 

“See that cloud?” Draco inquired. “Looks like a snake. Slytherin.” He poked Kit’s side, making her smack him.

“I’ll bite you next time, like the snake would,” she hissed, before pointing at another cloud. “That one looks like a bird!”

“You’re a bird.”

“Yes, I’m a girl, have you just noticed?”

They both got a good laugh out of that one. 

**_**

_SEPTEMBER 1st, 1991_

Kit was exhausted and it was barely half past eleven. 

“Draco,” said Kit in exasperation as she shuffled behind him through the hall. “Why in the bloody hell are we walking all over the train?”

Behind her, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were shoving each other, making Kit press herself against Draco and hold his arm. She wasn’t smaller than any of the boys, but they could likely still trample her if she didn’t watch out. Kit gazed back and scowled when she noticed Greg picking his nose.

“And why do you let those sloths follow us? We see enough of them at the Christmas parties.”

“Well I heard Harry Potter’s in a compartment down the way,” huffed Draco as he yanked Kit forward. “And stop dragging your feet, you’ll make me run into someone.”

“What do you need from Harry Potter? We had a whole compartment of people before. We left Blaise alone with Pansy! She hasn’t liked me since I accidentally cut off her hair when playing with my mother’s wand.”

“She has a right to dislike you then, hasn’t she?” teased Draco. “And by the way— I want to try and become his friend, see? Keep him from getting entangled with the wrong crowd.”

“He’s not going to be fraternizing with psychopaths if that’s what you’re implying,” Kit mumbled.

“Just hush up and let’s find him. Maybe he’ll come sit with us, and then you and Pansy can bicker for our entertainment.”

“You’re a rotten boy, Draco.”

Kit was relieved when they finally reached the compartment Draco had been searching for. The blond slid open the door and peered inside. 

“Is it true?” He announced, looking inside as Kit, Vince, and Greg crowded around the door. “They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter’s in this compartment. So it’s you, is it?”

Kit resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He must have learned that from her godfather. Lucius loved making grand entrances. 

The raven haired, green eyed boy with glasses assented. “Yes,” responded he, looking at Kit first, then the boys behind her, and finally fixating his glance on Draco.

“Oh, that’s Crabbe and Goyle,” Draco said carelessly. “This is Katherine, but only I can call her Kit.”

Kit offered the boy a smile. 

“My name’s Malfoy,” the blond continued. “Draco Malfoy.”

The red haired boy across from Harry Potter gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Kit nearly felt compelled to laugh, but the feeling stopped when Draco snapped. 

“Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father’s told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.”

“Draco!” Kit cried, looking appalled. 

“You’ll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter,” said Draco smugly to Harry. “You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. Kit and I can help you there.”

He held out his hand to shake Harry’s, but Harry didn’t take it.

“I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,” he said coolly. 

Kit covered her mouth to hold back a snort, before narrowing her eyes scoldingly at Draco. The Malfoy growled and squeezed Kit’s arm, making the brunette yelp. 

“I’d be careful if I were you, Potter,” Draco said slowly to Harry. “Unless you’re a bit politer, you’ll go the same way as your parents. They didn’t know what was good for them either. You hang around with riff-raff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid and it’ll rub off on you.”

The two boys in the compartment shot up, but Kit yanked Draco away.

“Say it again!” Harry challenged, clearly ready to defend Ron.

Draco shoved Kit out of the way and went back to the doorway of the compartment. “Oh, you’re going to fight us, are you?”

“Unless you get out now,” sneered Harry.

“But we don’t feel like leaving, do we, everyone?” Draco growled, causing Vince and Greg to nod. “We’ve eaten all our food and you still seem to have some.”

“We have not eaten all our food!” said Kit desperately as she smacked Draco and tried to pull him away. “Let’s just leave them alone!”

But it was too late. Greg reached towards one of the Chocolate Frogs next to the young Weasley boy. The boy leapt forward, but before he’d so much as touched Greg, Greg let out a horrible yell. 

A rat was hanging off his finger, its sharp little teeth sunk deep into Greg’s knuckle. Kit shrieked and yanked the rat off the instant Draco left her a clear space, before quickly handing it to the red headed boy. She then looked apologetically at the pair, followed by her shoving the others away and closing the compartment door.

“You idiots!” hissed Kit. “You say you want to get acquainted and that’s your first impression?”

“He made a wrong choice,” huffed Draco as Greg and Vince headed quickly back to their compartment on the other side of the train. “Besides, why are you defending that Weasley scum?”

“I’ll defend anyone you treat in such a foul manner! You’d think at this point you’d have learned not to act like that in front of me!” Kit snapped, looking distressed beyond what would be considered normal in such a situation.

For a second, Draco looked guilty. “Fine. Let’s just go back to our compartment.”

He offered Kit his arm, but she didn’t take it, and instead crossed her own before walking ahead of him.

When the train finally came to a stop, Kit followed Blaise, who was the first to stand, out the doors and to where a large man was waving for the first years to gather around him.

“You look cross,” he noticed.

“I am cross! Draco can be such an arsehole sometimes.”

The children were led down a bend to a series of small boats, and were piled into them like sardines, at least that was what Kit perceived it to be. Kit and Blaise didn’t wait for the others, and were placed in a boat with a boy named Terry Boot and a girl called Hannah Abbott, who Kit seemed to like. Blaise, quiet as ever, said nothing to them, but looked back towards the castle they’d soon begin to approach.

Once everyone had been loaded, the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Blaise gaped at the castle as they approached from the distance, the building towering over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood. 

“It’s magnificent,” he whispered. “Just like my mum and sister said it would be.”

“Heads down!” The large man (who Kit thought was named Hagrid) yelled up ahead as the first boats reached the cliff. The children all bent our heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy, which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking the congregation right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto the rocks and pebbles.

Kit gripped Blaise’s arm as they exited the boats, before following him up a passageway behind Hagrid and his lamp. They came out at last on a smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. 

When the door opened, a tall black haired witch in emerald green robes stood before the first years. She had a very stern face that reminded Kit of her mother, which initially made for a bad impression until the young girl learned that the professor’s persona was not at all like her mother. 

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid.

“Thank you, Hagrid,” she said cordially. “I will take them from here.”

She pulled the door wide open. The Entrance Hall was probably big enough to fit two of the Thompson Manor’s master bedrooms inside, thought Kit. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones in the dungeons of their manor— a place that Kit had only been allowed to step foot in once. The ceiling was too high to make out, but it glittered slightly, and a magnificent marble staircase facing the children led to the upper floors. 

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall said as she led them across the flagged stone floor. “The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. 

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. 

“While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.”

Kit shifted awkwardly beside Blaise, a million thoughts coursing through her little brain. However, she didn’t get much time to mull over her emotions before a hoard of about twenty ghosts streamed through the back wall. 

Pearly white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to each other and hardly glancing at the gathered first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying “Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance—“ 

“My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s really not even a ghost— I say, what are you all doing here?”

A ghost wearing ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the children. 

“New students!” The Friar exclaimed, smiling around. “About to be sorted, I suppose? Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know.”

“Move along now,” said a sharp voice. “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

“Now, form a line,” Professor McGonagall said, “and follow me.”

Kit was too nervous to pay much attention to the Great Hall as they entered it, grandiose as it was with all the thousands of floating candles and the masses of lanterns and students and ghosts along the four enormous tables within. 

She began to panic. Memories of smacks and cruel words rang in her head. Every little thing she had done wrong as a child had resulted in painful punishment. Punishment that could escalate to being excused from meals or being unable to exit her room. Everything her parents had drilled into her head about the Thompson name and her image made her wonder: what would happen if she didn’t make them proud? What would occur if she didn’t make Slytherin?

Professor McGonagall silently placed a four legged stool in front of them, laying a pointed wizard’s hat on top of it. The hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. 

Yuck, thought Kit 

For a few seconds there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and it began to sing.

Kit didn’t even have the heart to pay attention. Something about the four houses. Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor. All Kit could hope was that she ended up in the one that her parents wanted her to be in. Otherwise… who knew what’d happen. She knew she shouldn’t be so terrified, but it was all she could consider at the moment. Disappointing her parents was practically a mortal sin that’d only result in misery for the following seven years.

Can wizards switch houses? Kit wondered. 

The hat abruptly ceased its song, and Kit rubbed her arms in anticipation. Professor McGonagall unscrolled a long sheet of parchment.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” Professor McGonagall instructed. “Abbott, Hannah.”

The blonde girl from Kit’s boat went up, and sat, the hall falling down over her eyes. A moment’s pause— 

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. 

“Bones, Susan!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Boot, Terry!”

“RAVENCLAW!” 

The table second from the left clapped this time, and Terry joined them happily. Kit clapped as well. She had an awful vision, now that there was one Ravenclaw and one Hufflepuff from her boat. What if Blaise was Slytherin and Kit was Gryffindor? Kit quickly shook the nerve wracking thought out of her head. 

Kit could hardly pay attention to the Sorting. ‘Brocklehurst, Mandy’ went to Ravenclaw, ‘Brown, Lavender’ became the first New Gryffindor, ‘Bulstrode, Millicent’ the first Slytherin...

“Crabbe, Vincent!”

“SLYTHERIN!” 

“Granger, Hermione!”

Kit wrung her hands together as a brief pause took place— the hat muttering to the girl about its choices. But at long last, she was placed in Gryffindor. 

“Goyle, Gregory!”

“SLYTHERIN!”

“Malfoy, Draco!”

The hat hardly touched his head before he was made Slytherin. Kit gulped as the blond stared at her, offered her a thumbs up, then went to sit beside his other mates. 

“Potter, Harry!”

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like hissing fires all over the hall. Kit squeezed her eyes shut. After ‘P’ came ‘Q,’ then ‘R,’ then ‘S,’ then finally ‘T,’ which is what she dreaded most. She could distinctly hear whispers behind her: 

“Potter, did she say?”

“The Harry Potter?”

But she didn’t internalize what was truly occuring. To her, Harry Potter was just another name. She was too preoccupied running through scenarios of what her parents would do if she wasn’t Slytherin. Would her father beat her? Would she be locked in their dungeons for a week? Would they put her up for adoption?

The hat’s booming voice yelling “GRYFFINDOR!” made Kit nearly leap out of her skin. She clapped politely as she heard someone say: “We got Potter! We got Potter!” over and over again.

“Thompson, Katherine!”

Kit nearly fainted and cursed out loud at the same time. She balled her fists up so tight, her knuckles began to turn white. She walked forward meekly, and with shaky legs, sat into the stool, shutting her eyes tight as the Sorting Hat was placed over her head. 

“Difficult,” it purred, making the brunette flinch. “You are not like the other Thompsons I have sorted.”

Kit didn’t even want to answer, but she did. “I-Is that bad?”

“Bad? Of course not!” said the Hat unknowingly. “You are Slytherin material, but not as much as your other family members. Hmm... I think... yes, perhaps this will be the best thing...”

“Just get it over with,” Kit whimpered, feeling like she was about to cry. She could practically feel the smack coming to her face. She could practically hear the Howler. 

Not Gryffindor, not Gryffindor, not Gryffindor please, please, if the word meant anything—

“RAVENCLAW!”

The Ravenclaw table erupted into cheers and Kit numbly removed the hat, walking slowly to the Ravenclaw table, where she sat beside Terry, who was the only face she recognized.

“Good job!” One dark haired girl offered. “Su Li, by the way.”

“Hi,” said Kit, her voice a small squeak. 

“I’m Morag Macdougal,” the brunette beside her offered. “But I prefer to be called Mimi.” 

“S-Sure,” Kit choked, her eyes welling up with tears. “I’m... Katherine.”

“You okay?” Terry asked worriedly. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Because I am,” whispered Kit. 

She watched at long last as Blaise was sorted into Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Albus Dumbledore then got to his feet. He was beaming at the first years, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

“Welcome!” He said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”

He sat back down, and on the students clapped, the plates magically filled with food.

Kit couldn’t bring herself to eat a single bite. All she could think about was that in twenty four hour’s time, she would be disowned, or worse. 


	2. Chapter 2

_August 25th, 1994_

**It was difficult to determine what Kit hated more: being with her parents, or being with Draco.**

It seemed she should have been a tad more concerned about how he’d react, compared to her parents.

While life had been insufferable at home, and she had plenty of bruises and scars to prove her point, the torture at school was the worst. Kit had soon realized that her childhood teachings had rooted too deep into Draco for her to be accepted. That same day, he stopped speaking to her, and didn’t even acknowledge her presence when she was nearby unless he wanted to taunt her or say other rotten things.

At first, Kit had cried profusely. She had lost her best friend, and within hours, had received a reproachful Howler that let everyone know how ashamed her parents were of her.

But that had been years ago. Kit had since then forged her own identity— separate from whatever ridiculous barriers her family stood for.

She had her friends, and that’s what mattered to her. 

Blaise Zabini had been the only original friend she got to keep, and he had become her new best friend. She had transitioned to spending summers at his house and vice versa, taking him to the same pond she and Draco had grown up in. Blaise was by far a better friend than Draco. He didn’t really believe in anything they'd been told as children. His mother and sister didn’t really believe it either. Harriet Zabini became a better mother than what Kit received in her own house. Andrea Zabini had become the elder sister Kit hadn’t had. While they didn’t discuss their families much either way (due to Harriet’s reputation and Andrea’s move to another country for her studies), Blaise and Kit had an understanding, and a beautifully blossomed friendship that Kit wanted for life. 

Of course, she had also become very good friends with her dorm mates. Su Li was the closest out of them. It’d happened when in their first Charms class, they’d discovered that both shared a blatant disregard for any rules. Needless to say, it made for a lasting friendship.

Kit had branched out, of course. She and Hannah Abbott were both gigantic Quidditch fanatics, and while neither rooted for any specific team, they loved discussing tactics. 

She had even more recently become friends with Hermione Granger herself. Initially, Kit had wagered that Hermione couldn’t stand her, judging by how often the Gryffindor girl had let out gasps at Kit’s reckless behavior. She’d chastised her for her messy handwriting, but rather than hold a grudge, Kit had simply shrugged it off, and eventually, as similar yet different as the two girls were, they’d forged a friendship.

Kit had managed to become well acquainted with older students as well. She’d gotten along well with Penelope Clearwater, now graduated. She spoke often to Roger Davies, captain of her Quidditch team (and recipient of Kit’s first kiss, due to a dare that Kit would of course, never back down from). 

She especially liked those just a year above her, such as Eddie Carmicheal, Marcus Belby, and Cho Chang, her teammate. She had never quite gotten along with Marietta Edgecombe after the girl ratted her out for sneaking about trying to pet Mrs. Norris for a dare. 

“Katherine! Get down here already, idiot girl! You’re taking too long.”

Kit rolled her eyes at herself in the mirror as she examined her nose for its usual imperfections. She still had a scar from when Draco had tried to help her get a nose piercing when they were seven. That had of course, been a complete failure.

“Katherine! I expect an answer when I speak to you!”

“I’m coming, Father,” called Kit through gritted teeth. First, she was cursed with a name as foul as Katherine. Not that anyone else named Katherine was terrible, but she didn’t find the name suitable for herself. There were already too many Katherines in the world— especially in literature. From all the Muggle books she’d snuck in, most had a Katherine or Catherine: _Wuthering Heights_ , _The English Patient_ , _A Farewell to Arms_ … etc. 

Her mother had tried to call her ‘Kathy’ and ‘Kat,’ but Kit hadn’t liked it either. Her mention of it had made her mother mad, and now they just called her ‘Katherine’ or ‘Cordelia.’ Another terrible name.

However, she liked ‘Kit’ very much. She’d found it in a novel— _The Witch of Blackbird Pond._ The main character, named Katherine Tyler, was more commonly known as Kit Tyler. Thus, Kit had adopted it. Her parents, of course, had hated it.

“Idiotic name,” her mother had snapped, shoving Kit aside. “Makes you sound like a brat.”

“Well I don’t like Katherine—“

“That is your name! Nicknames are stupid to begin with, but to choose ‘Kit’ is the worst!”

Kit had simply never brought it up again.

“KATHERINE! Come downstairs or we are parting without you! The Malfoys are expecting us!”

Kit kicked the wall and adjusted her sweater before tying her hair up in a hastily done bun and trotting downstairs.

Another time she had to see Draco. Superb.

“Why aren’t the Zabini’s coming?” asked Kit dejectedly as she got to the bottom of the staircase.

“I already told you that,” her father snapped, pulling her arm roughly and leading her out the door. “Harriet has business to attend to, and the boy is visiting his sister.”

Kit simply moved away from his grasp and walked ahead, throwing open the door. “Hello, godmother,” she sighed. “Godfather.”

She allowed Narcissa to engulf her in a hug, then tolerated Lucius patting her head like she was a dog. Her godfather may not have been an affectionate sort, but she certainly wished he’d cease doing that.

“Say hello to Draco,” Kenneth instructed as he shoved his daughter forward.

Kit made a sour face and curtsied as if she were wearing a dress. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

“It’d be more charming if your face wasn’t so screwed up,” responded Draco, rolling his eyes.

“Children,” said Alison sternly, pulling Kit by the ear and out the door. Kit swatted her mother away and walked ahead of them. 

As they reached the edge of the property, both sets of parents grasped their respective child firmly, and apparated to the field where the final of the Quidditch World Cup was to be held— out in Dartmoor, part of Devon, England.

Lucius led the way for both families as they moved leisurely into the wood, following the lantern-lit trail. 

Kit squirmed as they worked through the crowd. Thousands of people moved around them, shouting, laughing, singing. It was a feverish environment, one so highly infectious that soon, Kit was beginning to forget how much she despised having to go anywhere in public with her parents— and Draco.

They walked through the wood for about twenty minutes, no words exchanged between them. Lucius and Kenneth were in the lead, with Alison and Narcissa behind, and Kit quite unfortunately situated beside Draco.

At long last, they emerged on the other side and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Kit could only see a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the field, but I knew perhaps five replicas of the Thompson Manor could fit inside, making it vast. 

“Here we are,” stated Lucius at the entrance as he showed the Ministry witch their tickets.

“Welcome, Mr. Thompson and Mr. Malfoy,” said the woman quickly, as if she was afraid that any other greeting would result in a snide comment. “Top Box! Straight upstairs, as high as you can go.”

“Thank you, Lynn,” said Kit’s father cordially, giving the witch a wry smile before putting his arm around her mother and leading her up.

“Don’t trip,” Draco told her as they began to climb. “Don’t need to embarrass yourself more.”

“Why don’t _you_ focus on not tripping?” snapped Kit scathingly. “Wouldn’t want to break those teeth that your father paid a fortune to fix.”

Draco said nothing more, and continued to climb.

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. They clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. They kept climbing, and at last they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here.

“Terrible trip!” Kit’s mother said, brushing her hair with a delicate hand. “Katherine, you better not have ran off.”

“I’m right here, mother,” Kit muttered as she looked around. A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite them, almost at Kit’s eye level, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant’s hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it, Kit saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.

“Lucius! Kenneth!” 

The families moved forward as Cornelius Fudge himself waved them over.

“Ah, Fudge,” said Lucius, holding out his hand. “How are you? I don’t think you’ve met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?”

“How do you do, how do you do?” said Fudge. “Alison! Pleasant to see you!” He shook Kenneth and Alison’s hands. “This must be Katherine!”

“How do you do, Minister?” Kit asked boredly. The only reason Fudge respected her parents was because they donated heavily to the Ministry’s many departments, and always supported Fudge’s campaigns. 

“Very well, thank you!” Fudge said with a smile. “Allow me to introduce you all to Mr. Oblansk— Obalonsk— Mr.— well, he’s the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can’t understand a word I’m saying anyway, so never mind. And let’s see who else— you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?”

Lucius and Kenneth peered over at the crowd with Mr. Weasley, including all his children (Kit only recognized the twins, Percy, Ron, and Ginny), as well as Hermione and Harry. Kit gave them a gentle wave, but Alison slapped her hand down, making her growl. 

“Of course, Arthur,” said Kenneth indifferently. At least in that aspect, Kit respected her father. He didn’t make snide comments in front of too many witnesses (all to save his own skin).

“Kenneth,” Mr. Weasley stated, grudgingly staring back.

“Good lord, Arthur,” Lucius said softly, moving forward ever so slightly. “What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn’t have fetched this much?”

Kit wanted to retort (which likely would’ve earned her another slap), but Fudge interrupted her. “Lucius and Kenneth have just given very generous contributions to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, as well as the Ministry, Arthur. They’re here as my guests.”

“How— how nice,” said Mr. Weasley, with a very strained smile. Kit knew that look: why the hell did money always get them their way? They didn’t deserve it! 

Lucius nodded sneeringly to Mr. Weasley and continued down the line to his seats. Kit noticed Draco shot Harry, Ron, and Hermione a contemptuous look, then settled himself between his mother and father. Kenneth moved forward next, then Alison, and Kit did her best to smile at the others before situating herself on the other side of her mother, which unfortunately meant sitting beside Draco.

“Don’t be fraternizing with those insignificant children,” said her mother immediately as she sat down. “You’ll be more ruined than you already are.”

Kit rolled her eyes and faced forward.

At the very least, one good thing came out of it all— she got to enjoy Quidditch.

Kit herself was a Chaser on the Ravenclaw team— a rather good one. Naturally, this event would be the highlight of her young life.

Nearby, Ludo Bagman whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said “Sonorus!” and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

“Ladies and gentlemen... welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!”

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

“And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce... the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!” The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.

“Bloody hell,” I mumbled, covering my face as a hoard of veela glided onto the field.

“What, jealous because you’ll never be as pretty as them?” hissed Draco.

“No,” Kit growled. “I’m just not interested in such displays. I’d rather they just start playing.”

“Oh.” For a moment, Draco was like he’d been before he stopped speaking to Kit. “Yeah, I’d prefer they just start the match, it’s more interesting.”

It seemed like an eternity later when the music stopped and the veela left. Angry yells filled the stadium: the crowd didn’t want the veela to go. Kit simply shrugged. 

“And now,” roared Ludo Bagman’s voice, “kindly put your wands in the air... for the Irish National Team Mascots!”

Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd oooohed and aaaaahed, as though at a fireworks display. Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it.

“Don’t collect the gold,” Kit’s father said immediately. “It’ll disappear soon enough. Let the poor have their fun.” He nodded to where Ron and Harry and their companions were thrilled to reach up and collect the glittering coins. 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” announced Ludo once the Irish were finished. “Kindly welcome— the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you— Dimitrov!”

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

“Ivanova!”

A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out.

“Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand— Krum!”

“Krum’s the only good one in that whole array!” Draco muttered. It seemed for a while, he and Kit could get along if it meant it was regarding Quidditch.

“That’s the only reason they made it this far,” agreed Kit. “He’d a bloody good Seeker— wins their matches against others in a blast. But they’ve got no change against Ireland.”

Kit looked over as Viktor Krum flew by. He was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an overgrown bird of prey. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen. 

“And now, please greet— the Irish National Quidditch Team!” yelled Bagman. “Presenting— Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand— Lynch!”

“LET’S GO IRELAND!” Kit and Draco screeched in unison. Alison yanked her daughter to sit as the girl rose from her seat to watch the seven green blurs sweep onto the field. 

“And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!”

Once the match began, all Kit could do was move her head back and forth rapidly, watching at the edge of her seat. It seemed she and Draco had come to a brief peace with each other, and exchanged critiques and comments on the plays they saw. 

“Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova— oh I say!” roared Bagman. One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the center of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes without parachutes. Harry followed their descent through his Omnioculars, squinting to see where the Snitch was—

“Krum’s feigning!” said Draco in exasperation. “Lynch must be blind! Even I can see there isn’t a Snitch there!”

“Twenty Galleons says that Lynch will crash,” Kit said.

“You’re on!”

At the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish seats.

“It’s time-out!” yelled Bagman’s voice, “as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!”

Draco groaned and pulled out twenty Galleons before shoving them in Kit’s waiting palm. The brunette smirked as the blond boy just grumbled and crossed his arms. “I thought he’d be smart enough to pull up.”

“Well, you’re a Seeker, you have a different mindset about it. I’m a Chaser. I see you all plummeting down half the time. I can estimate it better.”

Draco simply shrugged. 

Finally, it came down to a real thing. Kit couldn’t see the Snitch, but she knew that this wasn’t a Wronski Feint— Lynch was really going after something.

“Krum’s right on his tail!” Draco said. “Lynch better not be stupid and crash again!”

Unfortunately, Lynch wasn’t as lucky as he should have been, granted he was Irish. For the second time, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela.

“KRUM CAUGHT THE SNITCH!” Kit yelled as she shot up.

“BUT IRELAND WINS!” Draco bellowed, pointing at the scoreboard that flashed BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170. The rest of the crowd didn’t seem to have realized what had happened yet. Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight.

“IRELAND WINS!” Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match.

Kit and Draco let out a loud cheer, waving their arms as if they’d somehow stand out. That is how it’s always been for them— Quidditch fanatics who were best at watching with each other, because it was the most entertaining.

However, they quickly composed themselves, and Kit sat down upon her mother’s orders, whilst Draco went back to his quiet self around her.

“Time to find our tent,” Narcissa announced. 

“We get to stay?” Draco asked enthusiastically. “Awesome!”

“Katherine insisted, on our part,” Kenneth sighed. “Unfortunately, parents must sometimes concede to their child’s wishes. Can’t imagine how sore we’ll be sleeping in those little things.”

Kit sighed as both families made their way back down. They trudged forward and made it to their neighboring tents. 

“Go to sleep, Katherine,” said her mother the instant they entered. “No staying up. Braid your hair and wash your face, then get that sweater off. Understood?”

“Yes, mother.” 

Kit went to her little room, and sighed in content. At least, this was a great addition to her experience. She did as her mother asked and went to her bed, curling up and falling asleep almost instantaneously, though not before hearing strange whispers from her mother and father’s end. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Kit awoke with a start just hours later.**

She sat up, rubbing her eyes, having had another nightmare. She seemed to have them practically every night. In them, her parents were almost always yelling at her for something, reminding her how they saw her as practically a dung beetle, of sorts. She tried to pay no mind, but it wasn’t a secret that such dreams could lead to self consciousness.

However, Kit didn’t attempt to go back to sleep. Something felt off. She stood, and walked out to where her parents’ room was expected to be.

No one was inside. And she had just passed the common area— where the hell were they?

As she listened outside, something else seemed to be terribly wrong. She neared the entrance, and listened. The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. She could hear screams, and the sound of people running. 

“Shit,” she said, sprinting back and putting on shoes before bolting to the next tent. “Godmother?! Godfather?”

She was greeted, instead, by Draco. “What the bloody hell is happening?” he growled tiredly. “Are—?”

His statement was left unfinished. His eyes widened and he looked at something behind Kit.

She whirled around, only to see that by the light of the few fires that were still burning, people were running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire.

Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene. A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. 

The figures were hooded, and masked, and Kit nearly threw up realizing she’d seen such costumes before.

High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air.

Two of the figures were very small. More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice, Kit saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.

“To the woods,” said Draco immediately. “They could burn down these stupid tents.”

Kit didn’t object as he yanked her down the path and to the woods. 

The colored lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering through the trees; children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around them in the cold night air.

“Are they there?” asked Kit, terrified. “Is that— what they were whispering about?”

“Probably,” said Draco. “Keep your mouth shut, you don’t know who’s around!”

She remained quiet as he dragged her around others and deeper into the woods, where it was more isolated. She didn’t know where they were going, but she decided to trust Draco. Perhaps his parents had mentioned where to go.

“Let’s wait here,” he decided. “We’re in deep enough, and alone. They’ll fetch us when it’s over.”

Kit sighed and mirrored Draco, leaning back against a tree and attempting to catch her breath.

Suddenly, someone yelled to their left. 

“What happened?” said a familiar voice nearby. “Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid— lumos!”

A light shone out, and soon Kit could see Ron Weasleywas lying sprawled on the ground.

“Tripped over a tree root,” he said angrily, getting to his feet again.

“Well, with feet that size, hard not to,” said Draco in a drawling voice, making their presence noticed.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned sharply. “Why don’t you go fucking screw yourself?” Ron snapped.

“Language, Weasley,” said Draco, his pale eyes glittering with malice. “Hadn’t you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn’t like her spotted, would you?”

He nodded at Hermione, and at the same moment, a blast like a bomb sounded from the campsite, and a flash of green light momentarily lit the trees around them.

“Draco!” Kit hissed, not liking that he had needed to inject himself into their situation.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Hermione defiantly.

“Granger, they’re after Muggles,” said Draco. “D’you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around... they’re moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh.”

“Don’t be a prat,” Kit sneered as she moved toward him. “Hermione’s a witch,” Harry added with a snarl.

“Have it your own way, Potter,” said Draco, grinning maliciously as he shoved me back. “If you think they can’t spot a Mudblood, stay where you are.”

“You watch your mouth!” shouted Ron. 

“Never mind, Ron,” said Hermione quickly, seizing Ron’s arm to restrain him as he took a step toward Draco. There came a bang from the other side of the trees that was louder than anything they had heard several people nearby screamed. Draco chuckled softly.

“Scare easily, don’t they?” he said lazily. “I suppose your daddy told you all to hide? What’s he up to— trying to rescue the Muggles?”

“Where’re both your parents?” said Harry. “Out there wearing masks, are they?” 

“Well... if they were, I wouldn’t be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?”

“Oh come on,” said Hermione, with a disgusted look at Malfoy, “let’s go and find the others.” 

“Keep that big bushy head down, Granger,” sneered Draco.

“I’m coming with you!” Kit said boldly, only to have Draco yank her back.

“Don’t be an idiot, Kit, do you need your father to leave a scar on your face or what?” he growled.

Kit tensed visibly, but simply looked back at the others, who were glancing at her strangely. “Stay safe.”

“You too,” Hermione said back. “Come on,” She pulled Harry and Ron up the path again.

Draco released Kit roughly when they were out of sight. “What the bloody hell is the matter with you?”

“I’d rather be with them than with you!” snapped Kit.

“Don’t be a Mudblood lover, Kit, it’ll get you in trouble!”

“I’d rather not be a hateful, spineless bastard like you! Maybe Ron was right— you should screw yourself!” 

“Watch your mouth or I’ll be telling your father what you said!”

“Like you won’t tell him anyway! That’s another thing you learned from being a Seeker— snitching for no good reason!”

“Just shut up and sit down!” Draco growled at last, slumping to the floor and crossing his arms.

“I’d rather not be here,” Kit huffed, crossing her arms.

She wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but it felt like an eternity, and it was worse that they were close enough to see what was making everyone scream in terror. Once, Kit felt someone near them, and turned back to catch a slight glimpse of a man she’d never seen before. But before she could tell Draco, the man had disappeared.

The other worst part was that Draco didn’t care to have a decent conversation with Kit. Unless it was an argument where he had the luxury to insult anyone he wanted to, it was out of the question. 

Kit missed when they were carefree and could talk about anything. She used to trust him more than anyone else, and now he was the last person she’d share even a mild secret with.

She wanted to ask him why they’d even stopped speaking. Sure, maybe Draco felt betrayed and was made to feel he shouldn’t respect her, but was that the only reason? Kit would’ve liked to hear it directly from him.

Suddenly, without warning, the silence was ripped through by a voice unlike any they had heard in the wood; and it uttered, not a panicked shout, but what sounded like a spell.

“MORSMORDRE!”

And something vast, green, and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness in the sky. 

“What the bloody hell is that?” Kit cried as she and Draco shot up. 

The spell had formed a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As they watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

Suddenly, the wood all around them erupted with screams. The only possible cause was the sudden appearance of the skull, which had now risen high enough to illuminate the entire wood like some grisly neon sign. 

“Shit,” muttered Draco, looking a bit more pale. “That’s the Dark Mark. Whoever cast it…”

Kit didn’t need him to finish. It had to be one of their parents’ colleagues.

She knew that after the war had ended with Harry Potter defeating the Dark Lord, both the Thompsons and the Malfoys had pretended they’d never been faithful to him. That they’d been imperioused. But she knew that they all still discussed it— especially her parents, who communicated heavily with the old Lestrange couple whose son Rodolphus and his wife Bellatrix were in Azkaban. 

They wanted the Dark Lord to return. And they were investigating how to do it properly.

Kit was too scared to do much. The mark wasn’t dissipating from the sky, and she slowly sank down, bringing her knees to her chest fearfully and glancing up as if willing it to go away sooner.

“They’ll be here for us soon,” Draco said, almost as if he was worried for Kit. But he didn’t look too worried. Scared a bit, sure. But worried? Of course not.

It wasn’t long after that when the Thompson and Malfoy parents burst through the wood and found their children sitting under the trees. Kit’s mother had grasped her wrist and within seconds, they’d apparated away.

They appeared alone at the edge of the Thompson Manor. Kenneth and Alison brusquely led their daughter in. The pair was out of breath, and it seemed they had under their arms the very hoods and masks that Kit had seen earlier.

“Mother?” She asked meekly. “Father?”

“If you’re going to say something, it better be important,” her father snapped.

“Um… maybe. I saw a man by himself— real suspicious, he was only there for a bit and suddenly vanished. A bit after— the mark in the sky.”

Her parents exchanged looks. “What did he look like, Katherine?” Kenneth prompted.

“I didn’t get a good look,” she said quickly to avoid blame if her answer wasn’t good enough. “He was really pale and thin, though, and his hair was blond— at least from what I could see.”

“Alright,” Alison stated, ushering her daughter into the house. “Good. Now go to sleep. Your father and I need to talk.”

Kit wasn’t sure if her information had proved useful, but decided not to stick around and figure it out. She trotted upstairs and quickly closed the door to her room. 

**_**

_August 31st, 1994_

On her birthday, Kit wasn’t all too pleased.

It would be expected that turning fourteen would be a joyful occasion for her, but it hadn’t been for a long time.

Draco had of course been invited, as had Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Theodore Nott, and Crabbe and Goyle, who were too foul to Kit for her to refer to them by their first names anymore. 

Thankfully for her, Blaise was in attendance, and she led him to the pond once they made their subtle escape.

“I hate my birthday,” Kit mused. “The only good thing is that Hogwarts starts tomorrow.”

“You think your parents planned it?” Blaise inquired. “That you be born before the start of term?”

“I dunno. All I heard was that I was born two weeks late.”

“I came out exactly on time. Makes sense, my mum is very precise on everything in her life except relationships. She’s a bloody mess there.”

Kit winced. Harriet Zabini had always been incredibly kind to Kit, but the poor woman had been so saddened by her husband’s death following Blaise’s birth that she’d turned to her beauty to bring herself some joy, and money. Blaise suspected the reason his sister Andrea had left was to get away from their mother. He hated when people knew about his mother, but everyone seemed to know anyway. It was a reason he preferred not to open up to many— not even those he’d known forever. As far as Kit knew, only she was aware how worried he was about his mother, but also how embarrassed he could get due to her reputation. 

“She’s probably getting ready to marry bloke number six— honestly, I stopped keeping count after the third. Andrea and I don’t even meet them anymore— that’s how insignificant it all is. But if Mum is happy… ish… I guess.”

Kit attempted to change the subject, knowing Blaise didn’t like to discuss his mother too much. “So, Millie’s here. She and I don’t despise each other but we don’t talk. She never comes.”

“Maybe your parents want you to have more Slytherin friends besides me.”

“What good’ll it do? You’re the only one I tolerate.”

The only time Kit had even interacted with Millicent Bulstrode was when she saw her following Hermione telling her about the Polyjuice Potion mishap. Kit had greeted her, and a confused Millicent had returned it skeptically.

Come to think of it, the only reason Kit interacted with most people outside her house was due to another’s influence.

She most kept to her house, but every now and then, Hannah would urge her to speak to one of her friends, or Hermione would start to talk about people Kit didn’t even know, and she’d need to ask who she was talking about. 

Blaise would tease that Kit was pretty dumb for a Ravenclaw. She didn’t know half the people in the school (which Kit didn’t recall being a crime?) and now suddenly it was cause for questioning her intelligence.

Kit wasn’t dumb— she actually didn’t think anyone was truly dumb. Some just lacked a work ethic.

Kit was naturally brilliant, something every professor noticed rather quickly. She was very hard-working (when she needed to be) and was patient and kind, creative and reliable. 

However, Kit wasn’t always nice to everyone. She could be unbelievably critical and stubborn, not to mention she had a knack for overthinking and being downright picky. She had a terrible temper truly worthy of a Thompson— especially when it came to Draco. Sometimes, she got so annoyed she couldn’t concentrate, hence why she developed a habit of procrastinating. What made it worse was that she was messy, especially with her writing, which led Professors to often tell her that while her essays were stellar, they were always very difficult to read. 

She could be too sarcastic for her own good, and she could hardly tell when she needed to stop before she went too far with something. She almost always had a go at Professor Snape during class (for no reason, mostly), or just to challenge him even when she knew he was right. For that reason, she often ended up in detention, and it was becoming a habit for her to just randomly come in and clean his classroom without needing to be told. It helped her release anger sometimes.

And of course, she couldn’t stop breaking rules. She consistently fell asleep in class and never gave a rat’s ass about rules (well, unless it was McGonagall or Flitwick, for the most part). Kit didn’t ever think it mattered, Dumbledore was too lenient to expel her. Even when she’d been caught numerous times by Snape for sneaking into the Slytherin Common Room to be with Blaise, she’d kept doing it, and made it a habit to hang out with the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors at times. 

Of course, Kit wasn’t necessarily failing out either, so it helped. While she always did her homework at the last minute, it did get done, and she managed to do very well on exams without really studying. She memorized things quickly, and worked especially well under pressure.

When she actually cared, she could be quite perseverant and go the extra mile for assignments she found interesting (which was the way professors knew she’d actually done it on time). Her papers were good, but Kit almost always did the bare minimum— meeting only the required length and nothing more on a regular day. But when a topic intrigued her, she could write nearly triple the assigned length and write a paper so elaborate and detailed that while impressing the professors, also greatly annoyed them, because it was such a lengthy read. 

“Guess what?” Kit asked after a long silence where she and Blaise simply waded in the pond. 

“What?”

“McGonagall approved my new schedule!”

“Are you bloody serious? You’re going to want to die by the end of the term.”

“You act like I don’t already want to die!” Kit said brightly. “See, remember how I told you that they gave Hermione Granger a time turner in third year so she could take all these elective classes?”

“Yes. Did they give you one?”

“Of course not. I could never be trusted with one, it’d be the greatest mistake of their lives. I’d never leave Snape alone— he’d go mad.”

“Isn’t he like an uncle to you because he’s friends with your father and Draco’s?”

“Ew, calling him Uncle Severus might make me gag. He would have been my godfather if Lucius and Narcissa hadn’t asked my parents to be Draco’s godparents first— since he was born in June.”

“Well, alright. What about your schedule, then? Are you going to just scramble to get to every class?”

“Better! I get to deviate from Ravenclaw, which means I might have more classes with you!”

Blaise seemed to be pleased to hear this. “Really?”

“Yes! I can’t stick with my House _and_ have my desired electives without losing my mind or needing a time turner, so I’ll basically get to interact with other Houses more. I could be the only Ravenclaw in a cluster of Slytherin and Gryffindor.”

“Great, you can be my partner. Merlin knows how much I hate being paired with Theodore Nott. He’s an alright guy but he makes me do all the work.”

Kit narrowed her eyes. “I’m not going to do all the work for you.”

Blaise chuckled. “It was worth a try. What are your electives?”

“I’m continuing Arithmancy with Hermione,” stated Kit. “Then… Care of Magical Creatures. Muggle Studies and Ancient Runes too— Hermione convinced me to stay. The only thing is, Roger wants to add a Quidditch practice during school hours and Flitwick approved, so that’s another reason my schedule had to be flopped a bit. He knew we could handle it as Ravenclaws, I suppose.”

“Are you ever planning to sleep?” said Blaise. “Sounds like you’ll be up all night. Why aren’t you taking Divination again?”

“Oh, I wanted to!” Kit whined. “I actually like that class. But it’s scheduled with Runes if I do the Quidditch thing and I _must_ do Quidditch, so I made a sacrifice!”

“Well, why do Runes? Do you even like it? I dropped it first week because it seemed boring!”

“But Runes can be useful in the future! I was terrible at Divination, even though I liked it. And Muggle Studies can help so I can be more open minded. And Care— I love it! It’s my favorite class beside Potions.”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Hard to believe Potions is your favorite class when you make it your personal mission to try and give Snape the hardest time ever, and you always get detention there and lose your House points.”

“Bleh,” Kit said playfully, sticking her tongue out at Blaise. “It’s just my thing. Anyway, in any class you’re not in, Su can be my partner, then in any class with you, you’re my partner!” 

“Su Li is half blood, right?” asked Blaise. “That’s why they didn’t let you invite her?”

Kit let out a pitiful sigh. “Yep. I hate it here, I want to move out.”

“Why don’t you? Your parents didn’t even care when you told them you almost got petrified in second year when that thing was prancing around the castle!”

“For your information, it was a huge basilisk, so it _slithered_.” 

“Shut up, Kit.” There was a pause. “Are you going to start hanging out with Granger more?”

“Probably. She’s becoming a really good study buddy now that she’s stopped hating how often I make comments and how little I care about things. Plus, she’s a good friend.”

“It might be nice,” said Blaise as he let a puff out of his nostrils. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but she’s kind of cute.”

Kit squealed and poked his sides. “You fancy Hermione!”

“I don’t!” He said quickly, his cheeks tinted pink. “I’m just saying. By that logic, you’d fancy Draco.”

“I’d rather not put that foul image in my head.”

Blaise shrugged. “Consider it. You don’t know what’s in store for you there.”

“Meh. I don’t find out who my arranged marriage is with until I’m fifteen— if I even have one. Or, I’d find out earlier depending if my parents are being cheap about it.”

“I get to actually pick my wife,” Blaise said, sticking his tongue out. 

“Hermiiiiiioneee—“

“Shut up!”


	4. Chapter 4

_September 1st, 1994_

**Kit didn’t hesitate to walk out the door when eight in the morning hit.**

She yanked her trunk out with a muffled ‘goodbye’ to her parents and trudged out to the road, hoping a Muggle taxi would stop by soon. She just didn’t want to go with anyone else.

It was about nine when the taxi finally arrived, and Kit shoved her trunk inside before climbing beside it and sitting back for the ride.

She arrived at King’s Cross at half past ten and gave the cabby a generous tip aside from the fee before going to the platform and striding straight through to 9 ¾ , where she boarded the train and managed to find a compartment for herself. Blaise would possibly arrive soon and find her.

Instead, she found that at exactly eleven, those who piled into her compartment were none other than Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter.

“Hello,” greeted Kit, a tad confused.

“Sorry, we were running late,” Hermione huffed. “This was the only place open. Is it okay if we sit here?”

“Sure,” Kit said. “If Blaise comes, can he stay?”

“Um, yeah,” Harry replied. “You got the compartment first. Plus, he’s never been foul to us.”

“Blaise is cool,” Kit agreed, leaning back.

The train began to move steadily, and she hummed to herself. 

The little owl Ron had brought in began to hoot as thick rain splattered over the windows. Kit seemed displeased that she wouldn’t be able to see out. “What’s your owl’s name?” She asked.

“Pigwidgeon,” Ron sighed. “Ginny named him. Terrible name— I call him Pig.”

“He’s cute,” noticed Kit. “Teeny. Efficient.”

Hermione offered her a smile. “How are you? After that whole forest thing.”

“Oh, I’m okay. I just wish I could have gone with you. Draco’s terrible.”

“We saw Bagman in the woods,” Harry recalled. “It was really strange. Then— well you saw the spell, right? We had a whole problem on our hands because some bloke cast it with my wand!”

“Bloody hell, that’s terrible!” Kit said.

“What makes it all worse is we’re being kept in the dark about things,” added Ron grumpily. “They keep saying some special thing is happening at Hogwarts.” 

“So I heard,” mused Kit. “My parents stopped telling me things after the Sorting, they decided I had to learn to suffer in silence like everyone else.”

“Blimey,” said Ron. “I wonder what—“

“Shh!” Hermione whispered suddenly, pressing her finger to her lips and pointing toward the compartment next to theirs. Kit, Harry, and Ron listened, and heard a familiar drawling voice drifting in through the open door.

“... Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore— the man’s such a Mudblood-lover— and Durmstrang doesn’t admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn’t like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do...”

Hermione got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out Draco’s voice.

“So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?” she said angrily. “I wish he had gone, then we wouldn’t have to put up with him.”

“Durmstrang’s another wizarding school?” said Harry.

“Yes,” said Hermione sniffily, “and it’s got a horrible reputation. According to An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts.”

“My godfather and father are unbelievably obsessed with that,” Kit muttered. 

“I think I’ve heard of it,” said Ron vaguely. “Where is it? What country?” 

“Well, nobody knows, do they?” said Hermione, raising her eyebrows. 

“Er— why not?” said Harry.

“There’s traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets,” said Hermione matter-of-factly.

“Come off it,” said Ron, starting to laugh. “Durmstrang’s got to be about the same size as Hogwarts— how are you going to hide a great big castle?”

“But Hogwarts is hidden,” said Hermione, in surprise. “Everyone knows that... well, everyone who’s read Hogwarts, A History, anyway.”

“Just you, then,” said Ron.

“Not true, I read it,” argued Kit. “Of course, I tuned out often, but I was bored when I picked the book up.”

“Well, then how d’you hide a place like Hogwarts?” asked Ron, as if challenging Kit.

“Witchcraft— duh.” Kit patted her temple as if it should be obvious. “Muggles see old ruins when they look at it. Sign in front of it says something like ‘UNSAFE, DO NOT ENTER, DANGER.’”

“So Durmstrang’ll just look like a ruin to an outsider too?”

“Maybe,” said Hermione, shrugging, “or it might have Muggle-repelling charms on it, like the World Cup stadium. And to keep foreign wizards from finding it, they’ll have made it Unplottable—“

“Come again?”

“Well, you can enchant a building so it’s impossible to plot on a map, can’t you?” 

“Er... if you say so,” said Harry.

“But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north,” said Hermione thoughtfully. “Somewhere very cold, because they’ve got fur capes as part of their uniforms.”

“I mean, Krum goes there… or went there,” Kit added. “And he’s Bulgarian. Maybe somewhere near there? Could be Russia. I never read up on those magic schools, I didn’t care enough.”

“Ah, think of the possibilities,” said Ron dreamily. “It would’ve been so easy to push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident... Shame his mother likes him...”

Kit giggled. “I don’t know about _glaciers_ but maybe big hills of ice like there are in the desert. He could roll down and get stuck.”

“See, she’s got it all sorted out,” said Ron. “Say, why don’t you and Malfoy get along? Didn’t you grow up together?”

“He’s an arse who thinks like my parents. Ravenclaw was unacceptable, and now I’m shunned. Boohoo for me.”

“Pity,” said Hermione sincerely. “Sorry, Kit.”

“S’okay,” she said. “I’m over it. I have you all, now. And Su, and my dorm mates, and Blaise. Who needs Draco?”

The rain became heavier and heavier as the train moved farther north. The sky was so dark and the windows so steamy that the lanterns were lit by midday. The lunch trolley came rattling along the corridor, and Harry bought a large stack of Cauldron Cakes for them to share. Several of their friends looked in on them as the afternoon progressed, including Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom. Kit didn’t know them too well, so she and Hermione began their own conversation about Arithmancy and Runes, among other things. But when the conversation turned to Quidditch, Hermione buried herself in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, while Kit argued her opinions with Seamus.

Neville listened jealously to the others’ conversation as they relived the Cup match.

“Gran didn’t want to go,” he said miserably. “Wouldn’t buy tickets. It sounded amazing though.”

“It was,” said Ron. “Look at this, Neville…”

He rummaged in his trunk up in the luggage rack and pulled out the miniature figure of Viktor Krum.

“Oh wow,” said Neville enviously as Ron tipped Krum onto his pudgy hand. “We saw him right up close, as well,” said Ron. “We were in the Top Box—” 

“For the first and last time in your life, Weasley.”

Draco Malfoy had appeared in the doorway. Behind him stood Crabbe and Goyle. Evidently they had overheard the conversation through the compartment door, which Dean and Seamus had left ajar.

“Sod off, Draco,” Kit muttered.

“Exactly. We don’t remember asking you to join us, Malfoy,” said Harry coolly.

“Weasley... what is that?” said Draco, ignoring Harry, and pointing at Pigwidgeon’s cage. A sleeve of Ron’s dress robes was dangling from it, swaying with the motion of the train, the moldy lace cuff very obvious.

Ron made to stuff the robes out of sight, but Draco was too quick for him; he seized the sleeve and pulled.

“Look at this!” said Draco in ecstasy, holding up Ron’s robes and showing Crabbe and Goyle, “Weasley, you weren’t thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean— they were very fashionable in about eighteen ninety…”

“Eat dung, Malfoy!” said Ron, the same color as the dress robes as he snatched them back out of Malfoy’s grip. Malfoy howled with derisive laughter; Crabbe and Goyle guffawed stupidly.

“So... going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There’s money involved as well, you know... you’d be able to afford some decent robes if you won...”

“What are you talking about?” snapped Ron.

“Are you going to enter?” Draco repeated. “I suppose you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you?”

“Either explain what you’re on about or go away, Malfoy,” said Hermione testily, over the top of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4.

A gleeful smile spread across Draco’s pale face

“Don’t tell me you don’t know?” he said delightedly. “You’ve got a father and brother at the Ministry and you don’t even know? What about you, Kit Kat? I’m betting your parents didn’t tell you either.My God, my father told me about it ages ago... heard it from Cornelius Fudge. But then, Father’s always associated with the top people at the Ministry... Maybe your father’s too junior to know about it, Weasley... yes... they probably don’t talk about important stuff in front of him...”

“Or maybe your parents didn’t want to deal with you being obnoxious and asking about it, so they shushed you up quickly,” Kit snapped, finally sick of their presence. “Fuck off!”

Laughing once more, Draco beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle, and the three of them disappeared. Ron got to his feet and slammed the sliding compartment door so hard behind them that the glass shattered.

“Ron!” said Hermione reproachfully, and she pulled out her wand, muttered “Reparo!” and the glass shards flew back into a single pane and back into the door.

“Well... making it look like he knows everything and we don’t...” Ron snarled. “‘Father’s always associated with the top people at the Ministry’... Dad could’ve got a promotion any time... he just likes it where he is...”

“Of course he does,” said Hermione quietly. “Don’t let Malfoy get to you, Ron—“

“Him! Get to me!? As if!” said Ron, picking up one of the remaining Cauldron Cakes and squashing it into a pulp.

Ron’s bad mood continued for the rest of the journey. He didn’t talk much as they changed into their school robes, and was still glowering when the Hogwarts Express slowed down at last and finally stopped in the pitch-darkness of Hogsmeade station.

Kit bade the others farewell and put on her robes before skirting down the train to look for Blaise. She found him with Theodore Nott in the hallway, having been alternating between playing Exploding Snap and Gobstones.

“Kit, where were you?” Blaise asked.

“Hermione and crew ended up joining my compartment,” she chirped before beckoning him to join her.

As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder overhead. The rain was now coming down so thick and fast that it was as though buckets of ice-cold water were being emptied repeatedly over their heads. Blaise and Kit practically sprinted to the carriages. Kit almost slipped, but got lucky enough that Blaise caught her.

As soon as they got off the carriages, they raced to the Great Hall, which looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. “They better start soon,” said Blaise before they parted ways. “I’m starving.”

“Me too. See you!”

Kit then trotted over to the Ravenclaw table and plopped down beside Su, who was fiddling with strings on her blouse. Mimi was trying to stop her younger sister Isobel from braiding her hair at that very moment. Mandy and Lisa were a bit down the way with most of the boys and Padma, but Terry soon sat next to Kit.

“How was your summer?” He asked. “Also, happy late birthday.”

“Thank you. It was alright.”

“I discovered a new way to steal books from my mother’s library,” Su said, eyes wide. “Now she can’t stop me from going into her version of the Restricted Section.”

“Su, those books are probably concealed for a reason,” said Terry with an awkward grin.

“Or maybe I’d learn too much and she’s scared!”

“She’s a single parent,” Kit stated. “She’s probably just more cautious.”

“See?” said Su triumphantly to Terry. “It’s probably nothing evil. Can’t be worse than what Kit’s read.”

“I don’t read anything _terrible,_ ” retorted Kit. “It’s just descriptive, and insinuates something a bit more mature.”

Su coughed, though it sounded like she was mentioning _The English Patient_ as one example. 

Kit smirked at the girl and then turned to observe the staff table. “I really will miss Professor Lupin. He was amazing.”

“I liked him a lot,” Su agreed. “Called me in for tea that first week after my Boggart turned out to be a series of dead animals. He was really understanding when I mentioned my irrational fear of any pet I have dying on me.” 

“Well, your fear wasn’t that irrational,” said Terry. “It stemmed from bad prior experiences with your pets.”

“Alright, don’t become a shrink,” chided Su. “I was just saying.”

“It’s a shame they had to fire him,” Terry notes. “I actually learned from him. Lockhart the year before…” 

Kit shuddered at the memory. “Creepy. And Quirrell? I slept that entire year and still passed the final, what does that tell you?”

“We all passed the final,” Su said. “We’re smart.”

“No! It means that his teachings were useless.”

“Of course,” replied Su as she rolled her eyes, “but you forgot the part that he had a little parasite under his turban.”

Terry and Kit let out a laugh. “Do you all know who the next Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will be?”

“I heard it’s someone no one wants,” Mimi piped in once she got Isobel to leave her damp hair alone. “My mum said that it’s some bloke that only Dumbledore trusts!”

“Leave it to Dumbledore to hire random people to teach,” sighed Su. “Lupin was the only competent one in our mix— who knows how horrid the ones before Quirrell were.”

“Think he does background checks?” asked Terry. “My dad’s a Muggle preparatory professor and he says that they have to do an investigation on them.”

“I don’t even think Dumbledore knows what a background check _is_ ,” Mimi said. 

“Maybe it’s Snape at last, and I’ll get to bother him where he wants to be!” Kit said joyously. “It’ll be grand.”

“Kit, I’m starting to worry that Snape will slip you poison one of these days,” Isobel said in a small voice. “All you lot talk about is how you go after Snape.”

“Ah, it’s just fun to argue,” Kit said. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to get expelled.” 

“Besides, Snape would lose his job,” Terry added. “If Kit dropped dead, we’d all point fingers at him and it’d make sense.”

Finally, the Great Hall opened and silence fell. Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall. 

They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school.

Kit and Terry both fought snickers as Mimi and Su ‘awed’ in pity at the poor, wet little first years. 

Professor McGonagall then placed the three-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, and on top of that the Sorting Hat.

Kit tuned out for its song, as she did every year. Someone like Su and maybe Mimi would be enraptured trying to decipher any hidden meaning, but Kit didn’t care. 

She didn’t start paying attention until the Sorting really began. 

“Ackerley, Stewart!”

A boy walked forward, visibly trembling from head to foot, picked up the Sorting Hat, put it on, and sat down on the stool.

“RAVENCLAW!” shouted the hat.

Cheers erupted around Kit as Stewart was welcomed by the Ravenclaw table. 

“Baddock, Malcolm!” “SLYTHERIN!”

The table on the other side of the hall erupted with cheers. Kit could see Draco clapping as Baddock joined the Slytherins. 

“Oooh, our cousin is coming up!” Isobel exclaimed after a long wait.

“A cousin? How much family do you have?” Terry asked. 

“A lot,” chimed in Mimi.

As “Quirke, Orla!” was called and placed in Ravenclaw, Mimi and Isobel cried out and waved her to sit with us. The drenched little girl shivered, and Kit removed her robes to hand them to her.

“I have only two words to say to you,” Dumbledore told the students once it was over, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. “Tuck in.”

Kit didn’t hesitate. The rain was still pounding once they had all comfortably finished their meals. 

“So!” said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. “Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.

“Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever- Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch’s office, if anybody would like to check it.”

The corners of Dumbledore’s mouth twitched. He continued, “As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.

“It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”

“What?” Kit shrieked, along with several other Quidditch players across the Hall. “N-No Quidditch? That’s a crime against humanity!”

“I assure you it’s not a crime, Miss Thompson,” Dumbledore said with a light chuckle, making Kit turn pink as everyone turned to her. “This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy— but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—“ 

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers’ table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. The lightning had thrown the man’s face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Kit had ever seen, but familiar nevertheless.

“Mad-Eye Moody!” Kit breathed.

“You’re joking!” Su said as the man finally sat down. 

“May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. “Professor Moody.”

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students chapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. 

Dumbledore then cleared his throat.

“As I was saying,” he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, “we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”

“You’re JOKING!” said Fred Weasley loudly.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody’s arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

“I am not joking, Mr. Weasley,” he said, “though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar.”

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

“Er— but maybe this is not the time... no...” said Dumbledore, “where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament... well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.

“The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued.

“There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament,” Dumbledore continued, “none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.

“The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.”

“A thousand Galleons!” Terry cried. “I need to enter that Tournament!”

It seemed several others were as excited as he, but Dumbledore urged them to quiet down.

“Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts,” he said, “the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age— that is to say, seventeen years or older— will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion.I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.”

“Bummer!” Terry said. “Guess no Galleons for me.”

“Unless an older student gets in and wins and gives it to you for charity,” Su suggested.

“Are you calling me poor?”

Su giggled. 

“The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Kit was as pleased as she could be with her schedule.**

“Well, I do get to have Transfiguration, Herbology, Astronomy… let’s see what else… Charms… all with Ravenclaw. Then I’d have my midday practices so we can all stay in shape. Potions, Defense, and Care with the Slytherins and Gryffindors… and the other electives are too mixed for there to be a set class.”

“Looks like we get to bother McGonagall together for another year!” said Su blissfully. “I do love our little chats and her chastising us for not paying attention… yet respecting we get things done.”

Mimi flopped back in her chair and let out a small whine. “I’m going to miss having you around for Potions,” she said, clearly crestfallen. “It’s so entertaining to watch you have a go at Snape. It’s even better that we usually have it with the Hufflepuffs because they egg you on! I swear, they might be more rambunctious than the other houses combined… except maybe Gryffindor.”

“Hufflepuffs are probably the only people in this school that I truly tolerate,” said Terry. 

“Glad to know I’m in the wrong house,” sighed Kit. “Aw, I’ll miss you all giving me those astounded looks when I say something to Snape. I suppose I’ll only get that from Hermione now, because no Gryffindor will deny me the pleasure of arguing with him.”

“Just don’t get yourself killed,” piped in Lisa, who was sitting on the floor and filing her nails. “We don’t need to plan your funeral.”

“Just cremate me,” said Kit. “Don’t give my parents the satisfaction of having a grave for me. Spread my ashes on the Quidditch Pitch.”

“That’s a little dark, don’t you think?” said Cho as she passed with a stack of books.

Kit shrugged. “It’s a place I love.”

Cho seemed to understand, but scrunched up her nose. “I dunno, Kit. If you died and did that, I’d cry every time I set foot on the Pitch.”

“Just don’t cry, then,” said Kit indifferently. 

Cho rolled her eyes playfully and walked out, making the others all giggle. 

For their first class, Kit found herself seated beside Su in Charms with the Slytherins, where Professor Flitwick seemed quite eager to have them back. Across from her was Blaise beside Theodore Nott. Kit waved, and Blaise just shot her a grin back, before going back to doodling.

“Now, I want to tell you all,” squeaked the little professor, “that you must not let your pride for intelligence cause you to make rash decisions— Slytherins and Ravenclaws alike.”

Su made a face as though someone had force fed her rat dung. “Rash decisions? Us? Pfft, never! What’s he going on about, anyway?”

“No idea,” said Kit, though she leaned forward to listen to the rest of what her Head of House was saying.

“You are all far too young to enter the Tournament,” said Flitwick, causing several students to let out an ‘aaah’ of understanding. “Believe me, there is an age restriction for a reason. As brilliant as you may be, you are not prepared enough to deal with what comes in that Tournament, understood? Because if at fourteen you were ready, well, you wouldn’t still be in a fourth year curriculum, would you?”

“Bummer, he’s right,” said Terry on the other side of Kit. “Still, it’s a ruddy shame we can’t participate. I need a thousand Galleons.”

Anthony Goldstein huffed from behind them. “What do you need it for, Terry? Doesn’t your mum have a fortune from your grandparents?”

“You act as though I’m allowed access to it,” sighed Terry dramatically. “She hasn’t even told my dad about it because it’s for emergencies, and he doesn’t know how Galleons work anyway. I’d like my own money on reserve. Say, Anthony, if you or I manage to get in, and say whoever gets in wins, want to try _investing_?”

“Mr. Boot, is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

Kit giggled as Terry jumped. “No, Professor Flitwick.”

“Very well,” he squeaked. “As I was saying, you shouldn’t waste your time attempting to enter because it won’t work. And no, you can’t ask an older student to put your name in. It’d be a shame for you to be blasted to pieces at such a young age.”

Kit shuddered, assuming he meant that the person would be blasted to pieces if they entered the Tournament at their age. She looked across and caught Blaise grimacing. Kit knew he wasn’t the competition type. He was alright with Quidditch, but really only watched it because of her. He would never even enter his name if he was old enough (and neither would Kit, for that matter. Quidditch was better). 

A bit behind Blaise, Draco was snickering to his mates, likely about how he would fancy entering the Tournament and how he wouldn’t listen to Flitwick if his life depended on it. Kit scowled to herself. She hated how Draco never really listened. Last year, Hermione had told her all about his run in with Buckbeak the hippogriff. 

When the bell finally rang at the end of the lesson, Kit bade Su, Terry, and Anthony goodbye and trotted behind the Slytherin congregation down to the wet grounds and the sloping lawn heading toward Hagrid’s little wooden cabin at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where the Care of Magical Creatures class would be held.

“Hey, stranger,” said Blaise, waiting for her to catch up. “Lesson with us?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’ll be your partner for whatever we do.”

“Good. I like creatures, but I’d rather not touch them if I don’t have to.”

“Haha,” said Kit sarcastically. “You just want me to do the work.”

Blaise just grinned. “Sure, if you want.”

When they arrived, Hagrid was standing outside his hut, one hand on the collar of his enormous black boarhound, Fang. There were several open wooden crates on the ground at his feet, and Fang was whimpering and straining at his collar, apparently keen to investigate the contents more closely. As they drew nearer, an odd rattling noise reached their ears, punctuated by what sounded like minor explosions. He was already showing whatever it was to the Gryffindors, who didn’t seem to like it. 

“... jus’ hatched,” said Hagrid proudly, “so yeh’ll be able ter raise ‘em yerselves! Thought we’d make a bit of a project of it!”

Kit couldn’t yet see what they were, but she heard Lavender Brown squeal, “Eurgh!”

“And why would we want to raise them?” said Draco coldly, Crabbe and Goyle chuckling appreciatively in response.

Kit and Blaise scurried forward. Blaise cringed, but Kit paused to observe the creatures. They were strange and slimy, resembling lobsters but without a shell. Their legs were in random places, and they looked unbelievably pale. Each crate seemed to hold hundreds of them. The creatures were barely half a foot long, but they were bumping each other around rather aggressively. They smelled terrible to Kit, and she had to pinch her nose and mind the sparks that flew out before coming a bit closer. 

“I mean, what do they do?” asked Draco since Hagrid had not yet responded. “What’s the point of them?”

Hagrid thought for a moment. “Tha’s next lesson, Malfoy. Yer jus’ feedin’ ‘em today. Now, yeh’ll wan’ ter try ‘em on a few diff’rent things— I’ve never had ‘em before, not sure what they’ll go fer— I got ant eggs an’ frog livers an’ a bit o’ grass snake— just try ‘em out with a bit of each.”

“What are they called?” asked Kit curiously.

“Blast-Ended Skrewts,” said Hagrid. Kit nodded and reached a hand in tentatively, before drawing it away quickly. 

Kit wasn’t sure what compelled her to actually go along with the lesson, but she did her best to lower pieces of frog liver into the crates for the Skrewts to enjoy. Blaise watched the entire time, every now and then playfully critiquing Kit’s actions.

“Why don’t you do it, then?” said Kit sourly. “Since I’m not satisfying your preferences.”

“Oh, no, I’m just observing,” answered Blaise with a wicked smirk. 

Every now and then, someone would cry out in pain, having either been burned or stung. It turned out that males had stingers, while females had suckers on their bellies. Kit shivered and decided these were worse than wasps and leeches, which she already was afraid of.

“Well, I can certainly see why we’re trying to keep them alive,” said Draco sarcastically, loud enough for anyone and everyone to hear him. “Who wouldn’t want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?”

“Just because they’re not very pretty, it doesn’t mean they’re not useful,” Hermione snapped, making Kit’s lips curl into a smile. “Dragon blood’s amazingly magical, but you wouldn’t want a dragon for a pet, would you?”

That shut Draco up. His cheeks puffed a bit as though he was holding back a snide comment, but his gaze caught Kit’s and he held back. Kit was sure he was remembering that she had packed a powerful slap since they were children, not to mention that Hermione herself had hit him just last year. Of course, Harry and Ron would likely pounce on him, and perhaps other Gryffindors. Kit shot him a triumphant look, and he rolled his eyes and turned away.

Following that, Kit had her practice, and found that every member of the team was severely distraught.

“This is sickening,” said Grant Page, the seventh year Keeper. “My last season and I don’t even get to play!”

“Tell me about it,” huffed Duncan Inglebee and Jason Samuels, both Beaters, and both seventh years. “‘Least you all get another year.”

“I’m sorry,” said Kit sadly. Cho looked crestfallen as well, but Kit knew that she was sad for the three boys. Roger looked a bit guilty; he was only a sixth year (and the Captain), but he got another season, at least. Norman Chambers and Orion Bradley, Chaser and reserve Chaser, both sixth years, shared a pitiful look as well. 

“Unfortunately there is nothing we can do,” said Grant. “Might as well keep in shape. The boys and I all want to go professional, so perhaps the leagues will take this into account at our tryouts.”

“How about we make that our focus, then?” suggested Roger. “We can have our practices revolve around getting you all ready. We’ll work exclusively on Grant’s Keeper techniques for a bit, all of us as Chasers, then we can workshop other Beater exercises for Duncan and Jason. Does that sound good?”

“I’d like that a lot,” Duncan said appreciatively. 

“Yes, me too,” said Jason excitedly.

By the time dinner rolled around, Kit was absolutely exhausted, and starving. She didn’t have homework yet (not that she would do it anyway), therefore she planned to eat and go crash on the Slytherin couch with Blaise for a bit before going to bed.

As she reached the entrance hall, she heard a familiar and annoying voice again.

“Weasley! Hey, Weasley!”

Kit peered behind her, where Draco and his crew were coming over to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. 

“What?” said Ron shortly.

“Your dad’s in the paper, Weasley!” said Draco, shoving a copy of the Daily Prophet in his face. He was so loud that everyone in line before the entrance hall could hear. “Listen to this!”

_FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC_

_It seems as though the Ministry of Magic’s troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.”_

“Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley,” taunted Draco. “It’s almost as though he’s a complete nonentity, isn’t it?” he crowed.

Kit growled, and began making her way over as he kept reading.

_Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers (“policemen”) over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of “Mad-Eye” Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody’s heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene._

“And there’s a picture, Weasley!” said Draco, holding up the paper. “A picture of your parents outside their house— if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn’t she?”

Kit was there by then, and she let out an angry growl. “Leave them the hell alone, you prat!”

“Get stuffed, Malfoy,” Harry agreed. “C’mon, Ron...”

“Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren’t you, Potter?” sneered Draco, ignoring Kit’s increasingly angry presence. “So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?”

“You know your mother, Malfoy?” said Harry, stepping away and causing Hermione and Kit to launch forward and pull Ron back before he hit Draco. “That expression she’s got, like she’s got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?”

Draco’s pale face went slightly pink. “Leave, Draco!” snapped Kit in an attempt to stop a fight from breaking out. While she prided herself on being able to fight back verbally and physically, she hated having to watch fights, especially when it meant someone could get seriously injured.

“Don’t you dare insult my mother, Potter!” growled Draco furiously. 

“Keep your fat mouth shut, then,” said Harry, turning away. 

BANG!

Kit and several others screamed as Draco whipped out his wand and shot a spell at Harry. In an instant, Kit had all brought out her wands, but not before another loud BANG sounded, followed by a roar echoing through the hall.

“OH NO YOU DON’T, LADDIE!”

Kit looked and suddenly Professor Moody was limping down the staircase. He pointed his wand down at a pure white ferret, shivering on the floor, right where Draco had been standing. Kit and the rest of the hall were dead silent as Moody strode over.

“Did he get you?” Moody growled to Harry. “No,” said Harry, “missed.”

“LEAVE IT!” Moody shouted suddenly. 

“Leave— what?” Harry said, bewildered.

“Not you— him!” Moody growled, looking back to where Crabbe was about to pick the ferret up. Moody started to limp toward Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the dungeons.

“I don’t think so!” roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again— it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.

Kit let out a terrified squeak, her entire body tensing. That had sounded like it _hurt_. Badly. Despite the cruel things Draco had said to everyone, he didn’t deserve to be knocked around, especially as a tiny, more breakable creature.

“I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s back’s turned,” growled Moody, making the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. “Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do...”

“Leave him alone!” Kit said hoarsely, but it could barely be heard. Her hands were trembling, and she’d leaned back against the wall in horror. Every smack, every small crunch, every squeal of pain, it made her remember every time her parents had shoved her around just as violently, without care she could be hurt. “S-Stop—“ she looked around wildly. No one really seemed to be sharing her concern. Harry and Ron were laughing. Hermione was blank faced— perhaps she was concerned? Everyone else… entertained….

The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly. “Never— do— that— again—“ said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.

“Professor Moody!” said a shocked voice. Finally! thought Kit. Professor McGonagall came down, clearly worried, a stack of books in her arms. 

“Hello, Professor McGonagall,” said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.

“What— what are you doing?” said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret’s progress through the air.

“Teaching,” said Moody.

“Teach— Moody, is that a student?” shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.

“Yep,” said Moody.

“No!” cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand. Draco suddenly reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.

“Oh my— oh my—“ gasped Kit. He was bruised— was no one noticing? 

“Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!” said Professor McGonagall. “Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?”

“He might’ve mentioned it, yeah,” said Moody, “but I thought a good sharp shock—“

“We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender’s Head of House!” 

“I’ll do that, then,” said Moody, staring at Draco with great dislike.

Draco’s pale eyes were watery with pain and humiliation. He looked malevolently at Moody and muttered something like “my father…”

“Oh yeah?” said Moody quietly. “Well, I know your father of old, boy... You tell him Moody’s keeping a close eye on his son... you tell him that from me... Now, your Head of House’ll be Snape, will it?”

“Yes,” said Draco resentfully.

“Another old friend,” growled Moody. “I’ve been looking forward to a chat with old Snape... Come on, you...” he seized Draco roughly and led him away.

The others left, but Kit couldn’t even move. All she could think of was that she would never like to be tossed around like that. Moody had practically beaten Draco up. The young Ravenclaw sank to the floor, still shaking.

Draco was the only one who truly knew and witnessed how abusive Kit’s parents could be— both verbally and physically. While she dealt with it, she hated it, and it’d escalated to an almost inhumane level since her Sorting. While she tolerated it well enough, it still hurt, and she’d never wish that pain on anyone, not even Draco.

Kit could hardly eat once she got to the Great Hall. Su and Terry attempted to coax food in her mouth, but she kept peering over at the Slytherin table and seeing Draco wasn’t back yet, and it worried her.

As soon as dinner ended, Kit found Blaise. “Have you seen Draco?” she asked.

“No, but he’s probably locked in his room,” said Blaise. “Why?”

“Well— I’m worried!” she said. “He got smacked around pretty bad.”

“I saw. He kind of deserved it.”

“It’s not about whether he deserved it or not, Blaise— it’s _wrong_. While I understand punishing a murderer or something… I dunno, that’s literally contributing to his already terrible behavior! He’s already got a terrible problem with believing our parents’ stupid teachings, and with humiliation like that, he’s never going to learn!”

“Well, how will he learn, then?” prompted Blaise. “I dunno, Kit, he doesn’t seem about to change.”

“Maybe not immediately. But… I dunno, maybe if someone started trying to teach him where he’s wrong, tried to make him see reason…”

“That’s an impossible mission, Kit,” said Blaise. “No offense— that might never work, no matter how hard you tried. You and I know him.”

Kit rubbed her temples. “He used to be sweet, Blaise, around me. He was… normal. Then he just got worse, but since he’s so mean, no one bothers to be nice. Maybe he doesn’t deserve someone to constantly care for him if he’s going to push people away, but he certainly didn’t deserve to be swatted around by an adult!”

“He made an okay ferret,” Blaise mused teasingly, making Kit smack him. “Don’t be a prat!” she hissed. 

When they got to the Slytherin Common Room, they found Snape coming down the staircase for the boys’ dormitories. Kit ducked behind Blaise.

“I see you, Thompson,” drawled Snape indifferently. “Detention tomorrow for sneaking in again.”

Kit stuck her tongue out when he wasn’t looking, but didn’t leave. “Can you show me where he might be?” she asked Blaise.

“Um, I can, but is this a good idea? What if he lashes out and hurts you? You don’t exactly get along.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me, because I can tattle,” said Kit confidently. 

Blaise shrugged and led her up, then beckoned her into the room. Kit slowly walked up to the curled up figure on the bed, under the sheets. 

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Go away,” growled the person. “I don’t need you rubbing anything in my face, Thompson.”

“ _Thompson_?” Kit asked incredulously. “You never call me that. I’m here to check up on you. I was worried.”

“Stop pretending you care!” He sat up, and Kit saw that his eyes were red, brimming with hurt and hatred. 

Kit flinched. “I do care! Just because we don’t talk and always have a go at each other, doesn’t mean I can’t worry when you get hurt! You’re still my… godbrother, I guess.”

“Shut up. SHUT UP!” 

Kit scrambled back to the door as Draco shot up, looking furious. “I don’t need anyone to give a damn about me!” He yelled, though the pained look on his face said otherwise. “Just leave me alone so I can forget this ever happened!”

The young Ravenclaw didn’t need to be told twice. She quickly left the room and went back down to Blaise, falling onto the couch beside him.

“I’m assuming it went terribly,” he said. 

“Basically,” Kit sighed before burying her face in a pillow. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Normally, Kit might’ve been persistent and made sure Draco was okay.**

But it was a lost cause, and she knew it. 

She did her best not to think of it for the following days, at least not until she met Blaise outside of Moody’s classroom.

“You reckon he’ll even show?” asked Blaise. “My bet’s he forgets he has a class to teach.”

“Or maybe he shows up with someone from Azkaban,” said Kit. “Just kidding, but seriously.”

They went into the class leisurely, choosing two chairs in the second row. Kit hated sitting so close, but Blaise liked it because it got him to pay attention, therefore she obliged. He took out his copy of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, and extracted a couple sheets of parchment.

Kit hummed to herself and peered over at the Slytherin boy. “Never seen you so serious for a class.”

“Granted, you’ve never _had_ me for a class,” noted Blaise. “Besides— if he does show, I reckon he might say some pretty important stuff. I took an insane amount of notes last year in Lupin’s class because it was important. For Quirrel and Lockhart… I pulled a Kit and slept the whole hour.”

Soon enough, more students trickled in. Hermione, Ron, and Harry situated themselves in front of them, and Kit poked Harry in the back with her quill.

“You’re suddenly thinking of slicing me open or what?” he asked.

“Ew, no,” said Kit. “You’re terrible enough on the outside, Harry.” Then she stuck her tongue out playfully. “Just kidding. You’re pretty.”

“Am I pretty?” asked Ron, batting his eyelashes.

“Bloody gorgeous,” Kit confirmed, making Hermione let out a small laugh as she set her materials out on the table. 

“Hey,” said Blaise, leaning a bit forward.

“Hi,” piped up Ron and Harry. Hermione turned and waved, her quill in her mouth as she began to tie up her hair.

As soon as she turned away, Kit winked at Blaise, making him kick her under the table.

After a while, Moody came into the classroom, strange as ever. 

“You can put those away,” he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, “those books. You won’t need them.”

Kit smirked, because she hadn’t taken hers out. Blaise reluctantly tucked his away in his bag, though he left his parchment out. 

Moody took out a register and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered. 

“Right then,” he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, “I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you’ve had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures— you’ve covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?”

There was a general murmur of assent.

“But you’re behind— very behind— on dealing with curses,” said Moody. “So I’m here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I’ve got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark—“

“What, aren’t you staying?” Ron blurted out.

Moody’s magical eye spun around to stare at Ron. After a moment Moody smiled. “You’ll be Arthur Weasley’s son, eh?” Moody said. “Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago... Yeah, I’m staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledore... One year, and then back to my quiet retirement.” He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.

“So— straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I’m not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you’re in the sixth year. You’re not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore’s got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you’re up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen? A wizard who’s about to put an illegal curse on you isn’t going to tell you what he’s about to do. He’s not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I’m talking.”

Kit turned as Lavender jumped and blushed. It seemed she had been showing Parvati something under the desk. 

“So... do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?”

Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Kit’s. Although she didn’t really like participating in class much, this was one answer she knew for certain. Moody pointed at Ron, though his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender.

“Er,” said Ron tentatively, “my dad told me about one... Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?”

“Ah, yes,” said Moody appreciatively. “Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse.”

Moody got to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. Kit noticed Ron recoil. Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, “Imperio!”

Kit flinched as the spider leapt from Moody’s hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance. 

Everyone was laughing— everyone except Moody and Kit.

Kit wasn’t afraid of spiders, but she did heavily dislike them. Her mind, however, was fixated on the curse itself. To watch the creature move around at Moody’s bidding, without its own mind enabling it to patrol its own actions… well, it brought back a terrible memory that Kit had tried to suppress.

“Think it’s funny, do you?” Moody growled. “You’d like it, would you, if I did it to you?”

The laughter died away almost instantly.

“Total control,” said Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. “I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats… Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse. Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will.

“The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I’ll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone’s got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he barked, and everyone jumped.

Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar. “Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?”

Kit’s hand flew into the air again, but Moody called on Neville Longbottom.

“There’s one— the Cruciatus Curse,” said Neville in a small voice. Moody was looking very intently at Neville, this time with both eyes. 

“Your name’s Longbottom?” he said, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again.

Neville nodded nervously. Moody turned back to the class and reached into the jar for the next spider, placing it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.

“The Cruciatus Curse,” said Moody. “Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea,” he said, pointing his wand at the spider. “Engorgio!”

The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Abandoning all pretense, Ron pushed his chair backward, as far away from Moody’s desk as possible, which meant shoving Kit’s desk back into her stomach. She let out a little whine and recoiled. Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, “Crucio!”

At once, the spider’s legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but if it could have given voice, it would have been screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently.

Kit could scarcely breathe. Perhaps this memory wasn’t so vivid due to it not happening to her, but she had seen it on another person before.

_“.... asked you to submit the paperwork,” growled Kenneth Thompson to the feeble, pale private secretary he had hired for his new position at the Ministry when Kit was five._

_Kit, who had been playing in the adjacent dining room with her dolls, scurried over to the ajar door and peered in, seeing her father towering over the poor, terrified woman. Kit didn’t know what the paperwork was for, but it must have been important for her father to be so cross._

_“I-I’m sorry!” gasped the woman, slowly attempting to move away._

_Bad choice. Kit knew that’s what triggered her father most— trying to move away subtly. He had been both a Seeker and a Beater throughout six of his Hogwarts years. He still retained both his knack for catching any slight movement, and his strength._

_In an instant, he’d gripped the woman by the collar and shoved her forcefully onto the floor. Kit had covered her mouth and dropped down to look under the table where the woman now lay, shielding her face._

_“I’ll give you something to be scared of!” Kenneth snarled. “Crucio!”_

_Kit had begun to bawl the instant the woman let out a piercing scream and writhed on the floor. Her father had heard, and stormed to where she was concealed, yanking the little girl out and smacking her hard across the face before dragging her to watch as the woman wailed in agony._

_“That’s what happens when you don’t listen,” the man had hissed, squeezing Kit’s shoulder forcefully, and shaking her when she didn’t stop crying right away. “That serves as a warning to the both of you.”_

“Stop it!” cried Hermione suddenly.

Kit flinched, and looked back to see that Neville was clenching the desk in front of him, his knuckles white, his eyes wide and horrified. Moody raised his wand. The spider’s legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch.

“Reducio,” Moody muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar.

“Pain,” said Moody softly. “You don’t need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse... That one was very popular once too.

“Right... anyone know any others?”

Kit didn’t want to answer anymore. Blaise nudged a bit when her hand didn’t go up, but she simply shook her head quickly. He didn’t know what she’d seen. 

“Avada Kedavra,” Hermione whispered when she was called on. 

“Ah,” said Moody, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. “Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra... the Killing Curse.”

He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody’s fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface.

Moody raised his wand, and Harry felt a sudden thrill of foreboding. “Avada Kedavra!” Moody roared.

There was a flash of blinding green light and instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but dead. Several of the students stifled cries; Ron had thrown himself backward and almost toppled onto Kit as the spider skidded toward him.

Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor.

“Not nice,” he said calmly. “Not pleasant. And there’s no countercurse. There’s no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he’s sitting right in front of me.”

Everyone seemed to turn to Harry, 

“Avada Kedavra’s a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it,” said Moody. “You could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I’d get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn’t matter. I’m not here to teach you how to do it.

“Now, if there’s no countercurse, why am I showing you? Because you’ve got to know. You’ve got to appreciate what the worst is. You don’t want to find yourself in a situation where you’re facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he roared, and the whole class jumped again.

“Now... those three curses— Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus— are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That’s what you’re up against. That’s what I’ve got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills... copy this down...”

Kit didn’t bother to write anything. She crossed her arms over the desk and dropped her head down, staring blankly at the blackboard and deciding to simply listen. No one beside Moody spoke until the class ended.

“Come on, Kit,” said Blaise, urging her to get up.

But Moody came over before she could move. “Lesson not interesting enough for you, Thompson?” he asked her gruffly, though a twisted grin was on his face.

“It’s like you said,” said Kit in a snarky tone. “Constant vigilance. Notes won’t do shit for me.”

For a minute, her heart raced in fear. What if Moody turned her into a ferret? Instead, he let out a hoarse laugh. “Suit yourself. You probably already knew it all, anyway.”

Kit didn’t respond. It was true— she’d heard and read enough to know the details he’d gone over. But she didn’t care to say anything. She gathered her belongings and walked out with Blaise, just behind Hermione and the others, who’d approached Neville. 

“Poor guy,” said Blaise. “Looks terrible.”

“Neville?” Hermione said gently as they approached. Neville looked around.

“Oh hello,” he said, his voice much higher than usual. “Interesting lesson, wasn’t it? I wonder what’s for dinner, I’m— I’m starving, aren’t you?”

“Neville, are you all right?” said Hermione.

“Oh yes, I’m fine,” Neville gabbled in the same unnaturally high voice. “Very interesting dinner— I mean lesson— what’s for eating?”

“Neville, what—?”

But before anyone could make sense of anything, Professor Moody limped up behind them. All six of them fell silent.

“It’s all right, sonny,” he said to Neville. “Why don’t you come up to my office? Come on... we can have a cup of tea...” Neville looked even more frightened at the prospect of tea with Moody. He neither moved nor spoke. Moody turned his magical eye upon Harry.

“You all right, are you, Potter?”

“Yes,” said Harry, almost defiantly.

Moody paused for a second. “You’ve got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, but you’ve got to know. No point pretending... well... come on, Longbottom, I’ve got some books that might interest you.”

Moody led Neville away, and Kit scoffed. “Great, now we’ll all need some sort of therapy. Wonder what’s with Neville.” Kit couldn’t help but mull it over. Perhaps he had also witnessed it happening to someone?

After dinner, Blaise and Kit trotted over to the library, where they found Su and Anthony already looking over their books.

“Moody’s lesson was terrible,” said Kit as she plopped down.

“I hated it,” agreed Anthony. “Made me really uncomfortable. Hannah started crying.”

“Lisa teared up too,” Su added. “Moody had to excuse them because they couldn’t stop.”

“I wouldn’t give Moody such satisfaction,” said Blaise, leaning back and beginning to fold his parchment into an airplane. “I’d just suck it in.”

Anthony nodded. “Same. But, Lisa’s uncle was killed. And Hannah doesn’t like when people hurt any type of creature. What was the point of killing the spider? Could have just fired the spell at a book.”

“But then we wouldn’t have seen that the spider was left unscathed,” reasoned Su. “And that it died instantly.”

“It’s just a spider,” piped in Terry as he came and sat down as well. “Hi, by the way.”

Blaise raised his gaze as a greeting before turning back to his airplane. “It’ll only get worse now. Sounds like we’ll be dealing with that topic for a while.”

“Bummer for Kit,” said Anthony. “She can’t sleep if that’s the conversation.”

Blaise scoffed. “She probably could. She didn’t take notes today, just stared.”

“I didn’t feel like writing,” said Kit. “Besides, I didn’t like the lesson.” 

“Arguably, she never takes notes,” said Su.

“She takes notes in Charms for you,” Terry corrected her. “Because you’re making eyes at Kevin Entwhistle.”

“Was not! He’s not even my type.”

“What’s your type then?”

“Not nosy prats like you, that’s for sure.”

Terry held a hand over his heart as if he’d been pierced with an arrow. “Cruel. But fine. I’ll just never speak again.”

Blaise let out a laugh, and then flicked his wrist to let his airplane flutter in a small circle before landing neatly in front of Anthony, who was going to stab it with a quill before Blaise snatched it back.

Kit didn’t do much more than listen in on school related conversations and every now and then jot down ideas on a parchment for when she actually completed her assignment. Every now and then she’d correct someone’s mistake for homework, or just fidget and flop back to annoy them. 

At the end of the night, Blaise decided he would go to bed early, leaving Kit to make her way back to the Common Room. However, before she even exited the library, she was stopped by Hermione, who had a sheet of parchment in one hand and a box full of something that rattled in the other. 

“Kit!” she said. “Hello— can I ask you about something?”

“Uh, sure. Here?”

“Um, well you can follow me back to Gryffindor Tower, I suppose.”

“Thanks, I like their couches,” said Kit as she followed her.

Hermione, much to Kit’s surprise, actually let her in. Kit followed her to where Harry and Ron were doing an assignment.

Crookshanks purred, and Kit knelt to pet him. 

“Hello!” Hermione greeted to the boys. “I’ve just finished.”

“So have I!” said Ron triumphantly, throwing down his quill. Hermione sat down, laid the things she was carrying in an empty armchair, and pulled Ron’s assignment towards her.

“Not going to have a very good month, are you?” she said sardonically as Crookshanks curled up in Kit’s lap.

“Ah well, at least I’m forewarned,” Ron yawned. “You seem to be drowning twice,” said Hermione.

“Oh am I?” said Ron, peering down at his predictions. “I’d better change one of them to getting trampled by a rampaging hippogriff.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit obvious you’ve made these up?” said Hermione.

“How dare you!” said Ron, in mock outrage. “We’ve been working like house-elves here!” Hermione raised her eyebrows.

“It’s just an expression,” said Ron hastily.

Kit giggled. “What’s the homework?”

“Divination, of course,” said Harry. “That’s why we’re not trying.”

“Fair enough,” agreed Kit. “So, Hermione, why are we here?”

“Funny you should ask,” said Hermione, with a nasty look at Ron. She took off the lid and showed them the contents. Inside were about fifty badges, all of different colors, but all bearing the same letters: S. P. E.W., which just about made Kit go cross eyed. 


	7. Chapter 7

**By the time Hermione finished explaining to Kit how she’d discovered the ‘enslavement’ of house elves in Hogwarts, Kit’s eyebrows had shot up far enough to reach the North Pole.**

“You made this spew because you think the house elves want freedom?” inquired Kit.

“What does it even stand for?” asked Harry as he examined one of the badges. “Spew…”

“Not spew,” said Hermione impatiently. “It’s S-P-E-W. Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. And yes, Kit.”

Ron frowned. “I’ve never heard of that.”

“Well, of course you haven’t,” said Hermione briskly, “I’ve only just started it.”

“Yeah?” said Ron in mild surprise. “How many members have you got?”

“Well— if you three join— four,” said Hermione.

Kit winced. “No offense, but I don’t think that this will do much. House elves like being enslaved.” Kit could have sworn she heard Ron cough out ‘kinky,’ but she ignored it. “It’s one thing to promote welfare for house elves in private households since they do experience abuse more often, but the ones here in Hogwarts aren’t being abused, Hermione. Trust me, I know what that looks like.”

“You knew Dobby, right?” asked Ron. 

“Yes. I tried to coax Draco to give him clothes once, after I saw my godfather beat him. Instead…” she didn’t finish. Lucius had told Kenneth, and Kit’s bum was too sore for her to move after the spanking she got. “Anyway… these house elves have good conditions here, and they’re mighty happy to be here.”

Ron threw his hands in the air. “See, Hermione? Even Kit agrees! Besides, do you really think we want to walk around wearing badges that say ‘spew?’”

“S-P-E-W!” said Hermione hotly. “I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status— but it wouldn’t fit. So that’s the heading of our manifesto.”

Kit paused for a moment to try and figure out what the acronym for that would even be, but after the fourth word, she got confused and gave up.

“I researched thoroughly in the library,” said Hermione. “Elf enslavement goes back centuries. No one’s ever done anything about it!”

“Because they like being enslaved!” countered Ron loudly.

“And,” Kit added, “the ones suffering are predominantly in private households. Their freedom is up to individual families. Trust me, my parents aren’t the only shitty people in the Ministry. There are very few like Ron’s dad. Meaning most won’t ever support something like that. They need elves. And the elves like it when they’re not being abused. But right here they aren’t.”

It was as though Kit’s words flew through one of Hermione’s ears and rapidly exited through the other. “For now, we should try to secure them fair wages and working conditions,” Hermione prompted. “Long term, we should change the law about nonwand use, and try to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they’re shockingly underrepresented.”

“And how do we do all this?” Harry asked, looking mildly exasperated, if not discouraged.

“We recruit members first!” chirped Hermione. “Two Sickles to join buys a badge and proceeds would fund our leaflet campaign. Kit, you can be treas— actually, sorry Kit, I think Ron would be more responsible for treasurer—”

“I’m fine with that,” said Kit indifferently. 

“—then, Harry can be secretary. Kit and I can talk to others about joining the cause.”

Kit immediately decided that Hermione’s new job for her was even worse than being treasurer. Perhaps Kit couldn’t handle money for shit, but it was a better option than trusting Kit to talk to others about a cause she didn’t fully believe in.”

“Hermione, this is a nice thing you’re doing,” said Kit slowly, “and I would wear whatever badge anyone gave me as long as it wasn’t implying something rude, but this is all a little unnecessary. I guess I can tell Su, Terry, and my other mates about it, but I don’t know if any will agree with you. Your opinion is very valuable but… I don’t know how much change you’ll make.”

Kit didn’t want to put Hermione down, but this was slightly absurd to her. 

Hermione simply sighed loudly. “Change won’t come right away. Stay positive! It’ll work out.”

Kit grimaced. The Gryffindor girl should have known better than to say that to a person with cynical tendencies, but the Ravenclaw kept her mouth shut instead of spouting all the pessimistic images coursing through her head regarding the potential failure of the movement.

She supposed that perhaps growing up Pureblood was leading her to not really understand how this was bad for the house elves. Her family had never had one before because her mother liked to clean things herself out of a need for control. 

Kit did feel slightly terrible that she couldn’t support Hermione more, but she didn’t really know how to be supportive. Terry often mentioned that Kit was critical to a fault because she simply couldn’t go with something she felt was wrong. She could be too pessimistic for anyone’s liking, but she was trying her best not to be. She hoped that she’d last on her ‘good Kit’ streak, but once school stress really got to her (despite it being Kit’s fault), she’d likely get all existentialist again, or something.

Before anyone else could say anything, a series of soft taps sounded on the window. “There’s an owl,” observed Kit. It was snowy white, and she guessed it was Harry’s.

“Hedwig!” he shouted, and he launched himself out of his chair and across the room to pull open the window. Hedwig flew inside, soared across the room, and landed on the table on top of Harry’s assignment.

“About time!” said Harry, hurrying after her.

“She’s got an answer!” said Ron excitedly, pointing at a piece of parchment tied to Hedwig’s leg.

“An answer about what?” Kit asked.

“Remember how I told you to help us distract Snape that day you found us in the Hospital Wing because you had a bloody nose?” asked Hermione. “And I told you we were helping Harry’s godfather?”

“Yeah,” said Kit. “You explained it to me briefly.”

“I wrote to him because my scar hurt during the summer,” admitted Harry. “He says… ‘I’m flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore— they’re saying he’s got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he’s reading the signs, even if no one else is. I’ll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry.”

“He’s flying north?” Hermione whispered. “He’s coming back?”

“Dumbledore’s reading what signs?” said Ron, looking perplexed. “Harry— what’s up?” For Harry had just hit himself in the forehead with his fist, jolting Hedwig out of his lap. “I shouldn’t’ve told him!” Harry said furiously.

“Harry,” started Kit, “if your scar hurt, that’s probably a good reason to alert your godfather. I may not know as much about your life, but he’s your closest magical guardian.”

“But it’s made him think he’s got to come back!” Harry snapped, slamming his fists on the table. Hedwig landed on the back of Ron’s chair. “Coming back, because he thinks I’m in trouble! And there’s nothing wrong with me! And I haven’t got anything for you,” he snapped at Hedwig, “you’ll have to go up to the Owlery if you want food.”

Kit’s eyes flashed angrily, and before Hedwig could leave, she pulled out some snacks from her pocket. “I’ll take you to the Owlery before I go to my Common Room so we can get you some food.” She shot a nasty look at Harry. “You can get mad, Golden Boy, but you don’t get to snap at your owl. Seems she went through quite a trip to bring you your ruddy letter. Don’t be a little shit.”

“You don’t get it, Kit!” hissed Harry, looking so stressed out that Kit felt a tad sorry for him. “Sirius could get put back in Azkaban… or killed!”

“He’s an animagus, isn’t he? I’m sure he’ll have the sense to roam around like that until he feels safe. He’s going to check up on you no matter what.” She wanted to add, ‘at least you have someone who actually cares about you. And an owl.’ but she said nothing.

Harry let out an exasperated sigh as Hermione tried to soothe him with a pat on the shoulder. “I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.”

As he left, Kit rolled her eyes. “That boy’s got a temper just like mine. Anyway, good night.”

“Night, Kit,” said Ron as he flopped back onto the couch. “Good night,” added Hermione.

Kit stood, with Hedwig perched on her shoulder, and headed out the portrait hole, going straight to the Owlery. She found the room to be just as cold as the first time she was in it, having used a school owl to fearfully send her parents the result of her Sorting. The floor was covered in straw, owl droppings, and regurgitated skeletons of mice and other creatures. Kit walked around the edge to lead Hedwig to the food supply, grabbing a handful before beckoning it to the snowy owl’s eager beak.

She heard the door open behind her as she caressed Hedwig’s back, but she paid it no mind. She was rejoicing in the moment, feeling as though she was partly Hedwig’s owner. It wasn’t true, of course, but for a minute she felt like a proper pet mother, something she’d never gotten to be. 

Her parents didn’t use owls, they simply delivered letters themselves. Initially, Kit had thought it was because they liked seeing people, but she later learned they simply didn’t trust the letter to be delivered without tampering. She supposed there must have been very secret information in the letters for her parents to go through not only spells for security, but personal delivery.

A shuffling sound behind her snapped her out of her thoughts. She peered over her shoulder, only to realize that the person inside was Draco, having come to give a letter to Brutus, his eagle owl.

Kit had always admired his owl, but she hadn’t seen it unless it delivered cookies and sweets to Draco, and even then it was from across the hall.

To her surprise, Brutus saw her, and flew to her, making Hedwig fly up to a perch, and Draco let out an annoyed huff.

“Hello, sweet prince,” whispered Kit.

_“Mother, father?” asked Kit timidly the summer of her second year, entering her parents’ bedroom and tiptoeing toward them. Once they acknowledged her presence: “Can I get an owl?”_

_Her mother scoffed, looking up from her vanity, where she’d been applying a cream to her slowly aging face. “‘Can?’ Speak properly.”_

_Kit frowned, balling her fists up, but corrected herself. “May I get an owl?”_

_“What do you need an owl for?” asked her father scathingly, looking up from a book. “To write to those disgraceful friends of yours?”_

_“Um…” The answer was yes, but Kit didn’t voice it._

_“The answer is no, Katherine,” her mother answered._

_Kit shuffled nervously, shifting her weight from one leg to another. “Alright. Can— er— may I please get another pet? I really would like a dog. Or a cat.. Just something.”_

_“You’re hardly responsible enough to take care of yourself,” Alison chortled maliciously, staring at her daughter distastefully. “We don’t need a dog barking all over the place. A cat wouldn’t be fun for you.” The woman leaned back against her chair. “While it doesn’t please me to mention that your father and I are nearing our sixties and fifties, respectfully, I must mention it. You have to be mindful of disturbances to us, Katherine.”_

_Kit felt slightly guilty. She looked over at her father, who was adjusting his reading glasses. Wrinkles lined his tanned face. His faded brown hair was disappearing near the top of his head. She then gazed at her mother. The auburn beauty still had her healthy, full head of hair, but wrinkles were beginning to appear much more rapidly, something she had tried to prevent for years. Her hands were not as steady as they used to be. Kit could now see the stretch marks that her mother had hidden with potions following Alana’s birth, only having stopped taking it when she was pregnant with Kit, then once again following the girl’s birth. She never really remembered that her parents were much older than her friends’ parents. Lucius and Narcissa were currently the age that Kit’s parents had been when Kit was born, give or take a year._

_“I apologize,” said Kit softly, walking out the door._

Brutus cooed, rubbing his head against Kit’s and making her giggle. Draco waited impatiently behind her. “Can you hurry up, Brutus?” he asked snappishly. 

Kit frowned and urged Brutus to fly back. “Wouldn’t want to keep him waiting,” she muttered. 

Draco looked over at Kit as though he wanted to say something, then simply attached a letter to Brutus’s leg and sent the owl off. “Bye, Hedwig,” said Kit before slipping out the door. 

To her surprise, Draco existed behind her and didn’t hurry to get away from her. Instead, he seemed to be ready to follow her. Initially, she thought maybe he was going to make her trip and run away laughing, but when she took the hallway that led to Ravenclaw Tower and _not_ the dungeons, he continued beside her.

Kit didn’t understand the boy. She tried to be nice and understanding, and he pushed her away angrily. He didn’t speak to her civilly, ever. Now, he was mimicking her path. To be honest, Kit felt a bit alarmed. Not that she ever thought Draco would outright hurt her, but it was simply so bizarre and out of character for him that she started to breathe a bit heavier, which he seemed to hear.

“Is there a problem?” he drawled, turning his pale eyes toward her. They flickered all over her face, as if examining it to determine what she was feeling. He tucked his hands in his pockets.

“You’re heading to Ravenclaw Tower,” she said. “You know that, right?”

“Obviously. I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid,” Kit mumbled.

“Speak up, Kit Kat,” he grumbled back at her, rolling his eyes. “Not all of us have big ears.”

Kit subconsciously reached up to touch her ears, feeling her cheeks burning. She was already self conscious, and over the years, it was becoming worse thanks to her mother and father nitpicking everything she wore, every way she did her hair, etc. Lately, she kept feeling inadequate as she stared at her reflection. Her teeth were still slightly crooked in the front, and they made her lips look strange. Her eyes just didn’t satisfy her, and she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was because her eyelashes were so flat and short, it made her look like a boy. Her eyebrows were slightly thicker than she’d like them to be, but she had never learned how to fix them, and was embarrassed to ask for help. Her hair, while not as frizzy as Hermione’s, poofed and bumped strangely in the back, therefore she almost always put it in a ponytail, braid, or a bun.

It seemed, however, that Draco didn’t intend for her to get self conscious. “I um, didn’t mean you,” he said quickly. Kit thought she detected a very small ounce of sincerity? Perhaps she imagined it.

“I said… that I never said you were stupid,” repeated Kit reluctantly.

Draco didn’t seem to care about what she had said anymore. With every step she took, she started wondering more and more what this was about. She wasn’t even halfway there, and Draco’s presence was so foreign to her now, that it made her want to run to get away with him, even if she knew he wouldn’t beat her up or something.

“You got tense during Moody’s lesson,” remarked Draco, eyeing her reaction. Kit, still flustered due to his comment about her ears, just gulped and kept staring forward. Was he about to launch into a series of insults?

“It was a terrible lesson,” he added when she didn’t reply. Kit was now transitioning into steady shock. Was his statement supposed to be comforting? Was it a subtle way of asking if she was okay? No, that couldn’t possibly be it, she thought. Why would he care? And the more confusing part _—_ why wasn’t he making fun of Neville? Not that she wanted him to, but it seemed like the type of thing he’d do.

“Yes, it was terrible,” Kit agreed. She paused, and finally let out a loud sigh. “So, why are you following me?” She was starting to get a bit more nervous around his passive-aggressive self, especially when she didn’t have an explanation as to why he was even there.

Draco looked at her boredly as if to ask, ‘haven’t you figured it out yet?’ He rolled his eyes. “Just shut up.”

Kit wanted to slap him. “Shut up? You’re doing most of the talking!”

Draco gave her the same bored stare. “Shut up and let me walk you to your Common Room.”

Now, Kit felt as though she’d been slapped. He was just willingly walking her to her Common Room? “Why?” she asked.

“You ask a lot of questions,” he said in an annoyed voice. “It’s late.”

“I’ve walked around the castle at worse hours than this.”

Draco huffed. “Of course you have.”

“I don’t get the sudden concern _—_ ”

“You tried to be nice to me,” he noted. “I’m repaying the favor. Now will you please just relax? I’m not going to hurt you, or prank you. The fact you seem to think that I’d do that…” he trailed off.

It was Kit’s turn to let out a huff. “It wasn’t a favor, it was me giving a shit because _—_ well, because I’d be worried about anyone who got hurt like that! You don’t need to keep tabs and pretend to be nice just because of that. I appreciate it, sure, as strange as it is, but you don’t have to do this. And no, I don’t think you’d hurt me like that. You just… say things all the time… things that hurt a different way. It...” she mumbled the next part under her breath.

“What was that?”

Kit shut her eyes. “Nothing.” She’d been about to tell him that he reminded her of her parents.

Draco just let out a sharp breath, his nostrils flaring. “Well, I won’t do this again, if that pleases you.”

Kit wanted to tell him that she really did appreciate it, but she felt as though her breath would be wasted with that. No one had ever been that concerned. She and all the girls (and some of the boys) had that fear of walking alone in hallways when no one else was around. That someone with sinister thoughts would take advantage of them. Kit tried not to think about it when she wandered around, but it was always in the back of her mind. Some of the seventh year boys could be so abrasive and at times overly flirty, it gave her anxiety.

They walked the rest of the way in silence. When they arrived, Kit nodded to Draco. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, which gave off the feeling that it wasn’t just an alternate version of ‘you’re welcome,’ but also a literal phrase, as if no one could know how nice he’d just been because it’d tarnish his reputation or something. He didn’t move, and Kit blushed, realizing he was going to wait for her to go in… unless he was going to sneak in behind her? No, she wouldn’t think that, not after he’d been so nice… unless it was a facade? No. She tossed aside that thought.

“How far can a dog run into the woods?” sounded the eagle door knocker’s voice.

Kit thought for a moment, finding herself a bit distracted. Then she nodded. “I have two answers. It can run as far as the dog is physically able to, taking in mind its physiology, or halfway because assuming the dog is following a linear pathway, after the halfway point, it’d be running out of the woods.”

“Good reasoning,” it responded before the door opened. Kit peeked back and watched as Draco stared at her strangely. “Good night,” she said softly. 

“Good night,” he replied, pursing his lips and stepping back, allowing the door to close completely behind her before going back down the hall to the dungeons.


	8. Chapter 8

**For the next couple of weeks, Draco didn’t come up to Kit at all.**

“He goes out of his way to walk me to my Common Room, just to ignore me?” she mumbled to her hairbrush as she combed through her hair. “Was I too rude? Maybe I should have said ‘thank you’ more. He probably would have just been snarky. Ugh, this is confusing. What if he’s warning me that he knows something is going to happen to me one of these days?”

But thoughts like that just made her shiver, therefore she cast them away.

She had been trying to better her habits once lessons became more tedious, but it didn’t do much. Kit continued to wait until the last minute to do her essays and other assignments, and spent quite a few very late nights on the couches with the seventh years who were actually going the extra mile to complete their assignments properly. 

The worst class for Kit was Defense. Moody was a good teacher, she had to admit, but she was going to go insane if they kept discussing the Unforgivables. She still wasn’t taking notes, but she’d passed the two quizzes that were given regarding the Cruciatus and Killing Curses. Now, they were going deeper into the Imperius curse

Kit almost had a heart attack when she walked into the lesson with Blaise and found out that Moody was going to be placing the Imperius Curse on each of them to show its power and test if they could resist it or not.

“But— but you said it’s illegal, Professor,” said Hermione as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. “You said— to use it against another human was—“ 

“Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like,” said Moody, his magical eye swiveling onto Hermione. “If you’d rather learn the hard way— when someone’s putting it on you so they can control you completely— fine by me. You’re excused. Off you go.” He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. 

Hermione turned red. There was no way she would miss such an important lesson. Kit, however, was greatly tempted to walk out the door. She already knew what it was like.

_“KATHERINE!”_

_She flinched, and turned as her mother stormed into the parlor. “You idiotic, useless, waste of space!” snarled the woman, looking so mad that Kit could see fire in her eyes._

_Kit didn’t even know what she’d done. She was twelve again, the same summer she’d asked for pets. It was a week until her birthday and the start of third year, and now she was simply lounging around the house to neglect reading her books before the year began._

_“I told you— I told you—” her mother couldn’t even finish the sentence, and seized Kit by the shoulders, shaking her so furiously that Kit screamed. She desperately tried to push away, but Alison’s iron grip left the girl’s teeth chattering, her vision completely blurred. She began to tear up, the discomfort becoming frightening._

_“WHAT DID I DO?” Kit wailed suddenly._

_Later, Kit would learn that her mother thought she’d broken a very expensive mirror of hers, a mirror that Kit had been told not to even touch. As it turned out, the mirror was more poorly made than Alison knew, leading to it breaking randomly from the lack of an authentic, strong frame._

_Kit screamed again as her mother dragged her up to the other dining room, where pieces of the mirror lay in shards on the floor. A simple flick of her wand could have granted Alison the clean floor she wanted, but thinking that Kit did it led her to throw the girl to the floor, very near the glass shards._

_“Pick it up!” snarled Alison. “NOW!” The only problem was, she didn’t wait for Kit to process the situation. When a mere five seconds passed and Kit hadn’t made a move to clean it, Alison growled. “I will force you, then! Imperio!”_

_At first, Kit hadn’t known what was happening. Her mind had clouded slightly, and she could feel a foreign, furious, and frightful force trying to make her pick up the shards. To not be in touch with her body, to feel her head ache from how she tried to resist… Kit began to cry, desperately trying to reject the power her mother was enforcing on her. She watched her hands go down and move the glass. Her resistance led her to cut herself a few times, and as much as it didn’t really hurt, Kit was sobbing, feeling like she might explode. She would rather take a beating than watch herself do something she didn’t want to do._

_For her mother to control her so brusquely… it made Kit feel so insignificant, incompetent, and truly idiotic, that after awhile, she gave in, her tears now having stained her cheeks immensely. She gave up. Why fight it?_

Kit watched worriedly as Moody beckoned students to take a turn. One by one, they did the most ridiculous things. Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the national anthem. Lavender Brown imitated a squirrel. Neville performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it.

But Kit didn’t find any of it amusing. Not even when Blaise tap danced on his desk, making Hermione flustered, since he was right next to her. Kit wanted to laugh, wanted to make a comment that she thought maybe Hermione found Blaise attractive, but she couldn’t. This was serious. In other circumstances, this could be a matter of life or death. 

“Thompson!”

Kit wanted to tell him, beg him, to not make her do this. But everyone was staring at her now. Not a single one of them knew that she’d felt this before. Not even Draco. She hadn’t told him about witnessing the Cruciatus Curse either. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself by doing something dumb, or by rejecting to participate.

So she stepped forward into the provided space. 

“Imperio!” said Moody.

Kit felt a chill run up her spine. According to the textbook (which she had surprisingly read), victims of the Imperius Curse reported that they felt like they were floating, like they were extremely happy for no reason, free of worry, and more than happy to follow instructions, especially when the caster was powerful, with a steady hand and a precise mind.

It had never felt like that. Carefree wasn’t a word that Kit attributed to her own life. All she felt, and had felt when her mother first cast it on her, was panic, and fear. What if she didn’t listen? She’d get hurt. To think now that as Moody told her to act as though she was performing a scene from a Shakesperian play, he had her whole life and will in his hands… 

Instead of listening, Kit began to bawl. Everyone around her went completely silent. It was humiliating for Kit. Moody wasn’t releasing the spell. She didn’t want to listen. But she should so she wouldn’t get hurt. But she shouldn’t listen because if this was real, she could have been asked to hurt someone, and that was wrong, and she’d have settled for a terrible inherent response. She felt pain because she wasn’t listening. She couldn’t calm down, because she was terrified that she didn’t have control over her own body. Perhaps I’m overreacting, thought Kit. But she couldn’t shake the sheer terror of her mind and body being at the mercy of someone else. After all, that’s what she was used to with her parents shoving and beating her around to their will. She felt she’d lost her identity, and that scared her.

When Moody released the spell, Kit didn’t bother to explain anything, and simply grabbed her back and wiped her eyes before walking out the door. If Moody wanted to stop her, she’d throw her books at his stupid wooden leg. 

It was Blaise who followed her, his own bag slung over his shoulder. Without needing to say anything, he took her hand and led her to the Slytherin Common Room. Kit simply couldn’t stop crying. She didn’t want to burden Blaise with her silly problems and her stupid fears.

Thankfully, he didn’t prompt her to explain. He simply pulled her to the couch and into a hug, allowing her to curl up in his arms and bury her face in his chest.

“Stay here as long as you need to,” whispered Blaise as he wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back. “If Snape comes to bother, I’ll hex him for you.” 

It didn’t take long for her to stop crying, but even then she didn’t feel like exiting Blaise’s embrace yet. She feigned sleep, just to get a chance to stay with him. Blaise moved her only slight so her legs could rest on the couch. She felt his hold relax, almost like he’d decided to nap with her. 

But soon, he was speaking to someone.

“Is she okay?” the unmistakable voice of Draco made Kit nearly open her eyes, but she pretended she was still asleep, though her heart was now beating significantly faster out of curiosity.

“I don’t think so,” responded Blaise honestly. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Did you ask her?”

“Of course not. She’ll tell me when she is ready to talk about it. That’s how Kit is.”

It was true. Kit would be prepared to admit her experiences when she felt ready to discuss her parents’ abuse with Blaise to a greater level.

“It’s her parents,” Draco said without hesitation. “They must have done something to her. Even before she started crying, her face went all pale and blank, like she was going to faint. They probably used it on her.”

Kit wondered if Draco was aware of how intelligent he actually was. He could have been a Ravenclaw himself. Despite his snarky comments, she knew that he could be well spoken. She’d read some of his essays. He wrote Hermione quality sentences, just lacking a bit of the development that gave Hermione the upper hand as top student. Kit wasn’t sure if they had ranks for best student in their year, but she knew Draco was somewhere around the top five. His report cards were almost all Os with a few Es, and only one A from third year Care of Magical Creatures since he treated Hagrid so badly.

“If they did, they should be in Azkaban,” Blaise mumbled. “I don’t know how someone can be so cruel to their kid. Even if they don’t beat her enough to break her bones, the things they say to her… I just know that she’s not going to be able to recover from that until she leaves that house. Maybe not ever.”

Draco sighed loudly. “Yeah… listen, when she wakes up, take her to our dorm and give her some of my cookies from the tin on the nightstand between our beds. Tell her they’re yours, or something. I don’t want her to know they’re mine.”

“Why, are they poisoned?”

“Very funny, Zabini. No. Just… something that happened a few weeks ago. Give her the cookies. It’ll help her feel better.”

Kit’s cheeks tinted pink as she heard Draco walk away. She didn’t open her eyes though, hoping Blaise still thought she was sleeping. It should work, since she’d never been asleep to begin with. 

**-**

Another few weeks went by, and Kit hadn’t admitted to Blaise that she’d heard his and Draco’s conversation. Did it still count as eavesdropping if she’d pretended to be asleep?

Of course, Kit hadn’t told Moody why she cried either, and he didn’t ask. All she heard was that Harry had been able to resist the curse, and thus Moody had made him do it a few times for the class to see. Since then, she’d paid even less attention in class, to the point where she had to ask to study with Blaise for the final quiz on the Unforgivables regarding just the Imperius Curse. Blaise had been a bit shocked that she asked, but didn’t deny her.

Every class was upping their workload yet again, and Kit managed to keep up for a bit, though it was so out of character for her that she waited to turn her assignments in until the last possible day even though she forced herself to do it the day it was assigned.

“You are now entering a most important phase of your magical education!” Professor McGonagall told them, in class when Stephen Cornfoot had asked why they were getting such an enormous load of work. “Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer —”

“We don’t take O.W.L.s till fifth year!” argued Stephen. Kit thought he was the only Ravenclaw she knew that was even lazier than her. 

“Maybe not, Mr. Cornfoot, but believe me, you need all the preparation you can get! In my other class, Miss Hermione Granger remains the only person who managed to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. While nearly all of you have attained the transfiguration, it is not satisfactory enough. Let me remind you, Cornfoot, that your ‘cushion’ is as solid as a rock.”

Stephen turned pink, and Kevin Entwhistle nudged him as if to make fun of him.

It was even worse for Kit in History of Magic. She was the worst at the subject, and struggled to remember historical facts. It was the only class she actually needed to study for. Professor Binns had them writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century. Kit had handed in every one of them, but her writing wasn’t discernable, and Professor Binns had called her (more like, called ‘Katrina,’ since he didn’t remember her name) up to the front and told her she wrote like a goblin. She had just rolled her eyes and gone back to sit down. She didn’t care enough. It was a sufficient burden to write the essays to begin with. 

Flitwick was asking them to read extra books to prepare for a lesson on Summoning Charms. Kit and Su had both agreed that they would urge each other to do it, but both doubted they’d stick to it (realistically). 

Snape was getting on Kit’s nerves more than usual. He had forced them to research antidotes and hinted that he might be poisoning one of them before Christmas to see if their antidote worked. Kit wasn’t too worried, because she knew if Snape poisoned her, her antidote would work. 

The fact that Hagrid was also adding to the workload made Kit want to throw the Skrewts into the Black Lake for an ‘experiment’ to see if they could swim. Not that she would ever hurt them (she was starting to grow fond of them, she just hated the thought of dedicating her life to them when all they did was hurt her). They were growing quickly given that nobody had yet discovered what they ate. Hagrid was delighted, and suggested that they come down to his hut on alternate evenings to observe the skrewts and make notes on their extraordinary behavior.

“I will not,” said Draco when Hagrid brought it up. “I see enough of these foul things during lessons, thanks.”

Kit had noticed that this was actually the first time in a while that Draco had been disrespectful to Hagrid since the first lesson. He complained about the Skrewts every time, but he seemed to be keeping some of his comments to himself, much to her surprise.

“Yeh’ll do wha’ yer told,” Hagrid growled, “or I’ll be takin’ a leaf outta Professor Moody’s book... I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy.”

The Gryffindors roared with laughter. Draco flushed with anger, but didn’t say anything. Kit thought maybe he deserved Hagrid’s comment due to the fact Draco had tried so hard to get Hagrid sacked the previous year, but she felt a twinge of anger in herself at Hagrid for bringing it up. Was she the only student that really understood how cruel that’d been? 

When class ended, Kit and Blaise made their way to the entrance hall, where a large sign had been posted. 

_TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT_

_THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O’CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY. STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST._

“Only a week away!” said Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. “I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I’ll go and tell him...”

“Cedric?” said Ron behind Kit, making her and Blaise turn around.

“Diggory,” said Harry. “He must be entering the tournament.”

“That idiot, Hogwarts champion?” said Ron.

Kit furrowed her eyebrows. “Why exactly is he an idiot? He’s actually one of the top students in his year according to Roger Davies. And he’s a stellar Seeker. Not as good as you, Harry, but he’s still really good.”

“Isn’t he a prefect too?” added Blaise helpfully.

This seemed to please Hermione. “See, Ron?” she said. “He’s a good student. You just don’t like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch.” 

“You only like him because he’s handsome,” said Ron scathingly.

Blaise decided to answer this for everyone. “Look, mate, I’m not going to deny it, but he’s not my type.”

Kit and Hermione let out a laugh, and even Harry cracked a grin as Ron rolled his eyes.

The entire rest of the week, all anyone could talk about was the Triwizard Tournament. 

Kit managed to catch several glimpses of excited sixth and seventh years who were considering entering the Tournament. Roger Davies seemed especially keen on entering, and Kit witnessed him make a playful bet with Cedric Diggory himself that they were competing for the spot. She knew they were good friends, and their only rivalries came from Quidditch and schoolwork. 

Kit had started to notice different things, too. Ever since their brief discussion about Cedric, Kit felt as though she was seeing him literally everywhere. He _was_ extremely handsome. He had these interesting grey eyes that Kit had never recalled seeing on a person. His hair was like a perfectly arranged dark cloud atop his head. He was tall, fit, strong, and very agile. She had never really noticed these things about anyone else. The only reason she’d even had her first kiss with Roger Davies was because Grant Page had dared her to in second year, telling her it was part of the team initiation. Sure, Roger was good looking, but she hadn’t even paid attention to it. 

But now, Cedric was all she was thinking about, which was a terrible predicament for her to be in considering how distracted and detached she already was from school, as well as how she didn’t really open up to anyone. At least, she understood that vulnerability was a sort of basis in a romantic relationship… right? What was she thinking! Romantic relationship. She hadn’t even spoken to Cedric yet.

Either way, she didn’t need to speak to him to be entranced. The way he spoke to those around her was enough to give her insight into his humility, dedication, and kindness. She supposed he must have fit into every House, and that’s why he was a Hufflepuff. He had the drive of a Slytherin with how hard he worked. The courage of a Gryffindor to stand up for people and not shy from his opinions. The clear cleverness of a Ravenclaw. The loyalty of a Hufflepuff. Kit practically wanted his autograph, all for no good reason.

Kit initially kept her thoughts to herself. It was probably just something random and hormonal, she thought. Her brain was probably just exploring her tastes. Yes, Kit decided, that must be it. My brain is simply figuring out what I like for a romantic partner. So far, it’s tall male Quidditch players. It might change later. 

But as she looked over at Cedric one day in the halls and saw him smile, she felt a flip in her stomach, and that’s when she finally told Blaise, after her week of agony trying to get Cedric out of her mind.

Blaise of course, started laughing immediately.

“You’re so dumb,” he teased. “You don’t even know what you’re doing but your mind is all over this boy.”

“Shh,” hissed Kit, covering her face. “I’m just admitting that this is weird for me to consider.”

“Watch your arranged marriage be to him,” Blaise said, nudging her. “He’s a pureblood, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know. But I doubt that my father and his are friends. I met Amos Diggory, and I know he’s friends with Arthur Weasley. He’d never get along with my father.”

“Maybe your father will give you away to them,” Blaise said. “Cedric’s nice, he’d make a good husband.”

“Ew,” said Kit. “No— Blaise, I said he’s _attractive_ , not that I want to wed him! That’s ridiculous.”

“She’d have to stoop low to marry Diggory.”

Kit turned to see Draco there, a book tucked under his arm. “Blaise is right though, he would probably be a good husband,” countered Kit.

For some reason, this seemed to make Draco look thoroughly annoyed. “Suit yourself, if Pretty Boy’s what you want then I suppose you better be ready to be poor for the first years of your marriage— or more, if you don’t manage to snag a suitable job.” 

Kit rolled her eyes. “No, I’m not going to be poor, because I’ll claim that house my father had in Italy and sell it. Besides, I’d rather have a happy marriage with no money than a depressing one with enough riches to fill every vault in Gringotts.”

“Don’t be daft, you can’t have a happy marriage and be poor simultaneously,” Draco scoffed.

“That’s partly true, in some situations,” said Blaise a bit awkwardly. “But it depends on the people.” 

“Okay,” admitted Kit, “maybe sometimes it’s true, but I think I’d be perfectly fine if I did marry Cedric. Which we seriously need to stop discussing before the butterflies in my stomach come flying out of my mouth.”

“Suit yourself,” said Draco. Kit was surprised that this had nearly been a civil conversation. He turned and left to his dormitory.

“Weird,” Kit muttered as she flopped back onto the couch and tried to pretend that she hadn’t interpreted that whole conversation to be Draco subtly saying that he really didn’t want her to marry Cedric… or something like that.


	9. Chapter 9

**The night before the delegations arrived, Kit was basically having a mental breakdown… well, not really.**

“Mimi, that’s not how you’re supposed to write it!” Kit grumbled, rubbing her temples as she set down Mimi’s essay.

Mimi didn’t flinch. Kit was having one of those days that she was rushing to finish several things because they were due the next day, and was also attempting to look over her friends’ assignments. They’d all gotten used to it at this point. Kit would get far too nitpicky with them. 

Of course, in the end they didn’t mind because it did help make their essays better, and Kit usually apologized right after and made sure they knew she was trying her best not to be so mean.

The Ravenclaws tried not to hold it against her as she tossed their essays back into the pile.

“Terry, you keep reusing the same words,” said Kit as she went back to edit her own essay. “Mimi, you neglected the format Flitwick told us about, so you basically have to redo it. Su— your spelling is going to make Snape furious and he’s already trying to poison everyone!”

Anthony carefully pulled back his essay in an attempt to keep her silent about it, but she noticed and growled. “As for yours! Your sentences haven’t improved since the first year.”

“Yes they have!” Anthony retorted. “I scored better than you many times, Kit. Your essay was the one no one could read! Your writing is just getting more terrible.”

Mimi and Su shared an exasperated look. Lisa, Mandy, and Padma had known better than to stay downstairs for this— they knew Kit could get insufferable once she criticized every last bit of an essay. It was the reason they weren’t so close to her. Mandy and Lisa especially were not as inclined to perfection as the other Ravenclaws, and Padma simply didn’t tolerate Kit’s attitude when it got so terrible. 

As everyone took back their essays, Kit whined in anger at herself and smacked her forehead. “I’m an idiot! This always happens— I always wait until the last bloody moment and then I’m killing myself to get things done!”

“Maybe if you did it when we advised you to, it wouldn’t be a problem!” Anthony hissed.

Kit gave him a sour look. “You did yours early and it’s _still_ shit, so I wouldn’t be talk—“

“Okay!” cried Su, yanking Kit back before she could throw herself onto Anthony and slap him or something. “We’re all a little stressed right now, you especially, Kit.”

Mimi and Terry looked between each other as if making a silent bet. Terry knew better than to challenge Kit, but Anthony wasn’t one to stand down.

Terry estimated that Kit and Anthony were aware that they were the top in their class for Ravenclaw, and were competing for the top spot. Eventually, they always reconciled and all that, but when Kit got in a frenzy trying to do the work she should have done, and Anthony was revising and asking for his peers’ help… well, the mix was simply not a good idea, and it happened about once every other month following the start of October.

Mimi had learned long ago that Kit and Anthony were too ambitious to the point they became rude. Kit had been trying, of course, to not be such a bitch to the others. But it seemed she couldn’t help it. Being abrasive and overly corrective were her only non-violent (for the most part) outlets from all her bottled up anger and stress. Mimi looked between the two, deciding maybe, eventually, they’d both stop being like this. Possibly. 

Granted, everyone knew it was Kit’s fault for not getting her shit together earlier, and Kit herself knew that her inner Slytherin was practically screaming on days such as these. Kit had been placing a considerable amount of effort into not acting like this (she had stopped doing it as often last year; in second and first year it’d been at its worst), but with the heightened tension between her and her parents… unfortunately correcting her friends became her only nonviolent release. While Kit may have been more satisfied smacking something, she knew it wasn’t productive (and she already wasn’t productive enough, therefore no need to make the situation worse), and she knew that she could partially help her friends. Kit didn’t like the idea of anyone being hurt, especially not at her hand. 

After a brief moment of growling and telling Anthony just where he could stick his quill, Kit finally flopped back and began to cry, rubbing her temples. “I’m sorry!” she said sincerely, shaking her head. “I’m sorry— I’m just— this always happens. I really need to stop doing this. I’m sorry, everyone… the corrections are real but I shouldn’t have been so cruel about it… and forget what I said about where to stick it… I don’t actually mean it.”

There, the repentance, thought Su. That’s where Kit would usually end up just crying until she would finish her work, then turn it in both with its messy writing and stained wet surface. It was how she always finished out. Her apologies were true and with feeling. Kit knew she was stressing them out, and she felt terrible for it. 

Her friends shared a look. They could forgive her. She was trying to help in the only way she knew how. While none knew how bad she had it at home, they had their suspicions, and knew that perhaps this was how she was taught to show love. By correcting and urging others to be better. The group wouldn’t hold it against her. After all, there was so much she did for them otherwise. Today, at least, had just been one of her really bad days.

“It’s okay, Kit,” said Anthony gently, leaning back. “At least my essay will be better now. I don’t need to get a bad report before O.W.L. year. I need to be ready to score Outstanding.”

“But it’s not okay!” Kit moaned, wiping her teary eyes. “I shouldn’t be treating you like this. I keep doing it! I keep saying sorry but then I do it again. I get too mean. You all deserve a better friend. And no, don’t try and tell me my ‘good qualities.’ Let me sit in this guilt.”

They reluctantly remained quiet. The way Kit had learned to stop doing this so often was to wallow in her anger at herself, and remember she didn’t want to make her friends feel terrible. Compliments weren’t going to help. Kit already hated her body, and to think that she was being such a prat to her friends wasn’t helping her image of herself. She was unattractive _and_ a little shit. It was a wonder they can sit in my presence and not cringe, thought Kit. 

When Kit finally calmed her crying and managed to finish, get ready for bed, and curl up with her face still stiff, she let out a shaky sigh and just buried her face in the blankets. She hated how she treated her friends, but she couldn’t fully stop it. Everything got to her. She got bored, tired, annoyed, and her work got shoved aside. Her emotions were too much for her at times and all she could do was cry. She hated considering that she was a miniature replica of her parents: berating people and causing them to feel inadequate themselves. She wished sometimes that her friends would just be honest and say they hated her. They probably did.

Su watched as Kit cried, and she felt an ache in her own heart. She didn’t know fully what was going on with Kit. All she knew was that her mind was too full of worries. She didn’t know how to calm herself down fast enough, and she tried to pretend she was alright when really, she was considering just sinking into the Black Lake and living among the creatures so she wouldn’t bother anyone who was trying to study. 

In the morning, Kit went into another round of apologies with her friends. Su and Mimi assured her it was fine. By the time the hour of greeting the schools arrived, Kit preoccupied herself with noticing the changes that’d taken place around Hogwarts to not think of what a terrible friend she was in her own mind.

She didn’t think Hogwarts had been this clean since it was first built. The portraits had been scrubbed, quite unfortunately for its occupants. The suits of armor were so shiny, that as Kit passed by with Su on their way to the entrance hall, she noticed a pimple manifesting itself on her own forehead. Great, thought Kit, now I’m breaking out right when I might meet some more good looking people. She tried not to let her mind wander back to Cedric Diggory. 

Even the Great Hall was completely glammed up. Banners for each House adorned the walls and ceiling, and it seemed like a celebration for all four Houses winning the House Cup or something. Kit liked it, but also thought it was highly exaggerated. 

“I don’t know why, but it _bothers_ me that it’s this clean,” grumbled Kit. “They can be as nitpicky as they want, but why should we need to pretend to live in such fine conditions when we don’t?”

“Kit!” scolded Su, though a smile of agreement played out on her face. “They’re being welcoming.”

“It feels so hypocritical!” Kit murmured. “Hogwarts is more dangerous than my house. Quirrell speaks for first year alone. Then, I almost got petrified in our second year! The only reason I didn’t was because I was already late to the Quidditch match and managed to see Hermione and Penelope fall down all rigid, so I covered my eyes as I ran, and got lucky! And in third, we were told that the dementors were meant to protect us but Sirius Black slipped passed them! Granted, he wasn’t actually a danger to us, but what if he had been?”

“Oooh, I miss Penelope,” said Su thoughtfully. “But yes… actually, I think I’m safer in my home, and I live next door to a Muggle chemistry professor who’s going senile.”

“Dumbledore is going senile,” said Kit. “That’s one thing I can agree on with my parents. Dumbledore can’t really be trusted. Like, sure, I’ll listen to what he has to say, but he doesn’t seem too worried with what happens here unless it involves Harry or makes Dumbledore at risk of being removed as Headmaster. It’s almost like he’s constantly thinking of something else.”

“Maybe he has a girlfriend or boyfriend he can’t wait to get back to,” teased Su.

Kit laughed lightly. The idea of Dumbledore with a significant other was too bizarre. Did he really care about anyone?

The girls filed down the steps and lined up with their peers in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and the moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. 

They found Mimi and Isobel standing near Orla, their first year cousin. The girls planted themselves beside them, and soon were joined by Terry, Anthony, Kevin Entwhistle, and Stephen Cornfoot. Michael Corner was nearer to the other end, appearing to be flirting with some girls.

“Michael’s gotten to be a player,” noted Terry. “Granted, he may be one of the most attractive guys in our year—“ he stopped, and turned pink. “Um, that sounded weird. He is attractive but um, I’m saying it objectively?”

“Don’t worry, Terry, we won’t tell anyone about your crush on Michael,” Anthony said with a wink.

“It’s okay to say he’s attractive,” Kit said. “It’s not like it _has_ to mean you fancy him. It’s just a statement.”

“But it’s awkward,” argued Terry. 

“No it isn’t!” Kit said. “See, Michael Corner is attractive. It’s okay for me to say it.”

Terry blushed more crimson. “It’s different, you’re a girl.”

Kit frowned. “Don’t say that. You can say it too, it needn’t be awkward because you’re a boy.”

“Kit’s just indifferent,” said Anthony as he patted a very flustered Terry on the back. “She’ll say anyone’s attractive without fear.”

It was partially true. Kit would admit people were attractive whenever it came up, but what with her constantly seeing Cedric… well, that was a more embarrassing subject for her.

“Sure,” Kit responded smoothly.

“She fancies Cedric,” Kevin said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, shut up!” She hissed. 

Kevin grinned. “True, isn’t it?”

“No!” Kit didn’t know how Kevin could possibly know. She didn’t talk to him much. Besides, she’d only told Blaise about her sudden fascination with Cedric.

“Suuure,” he taunted.

Kit huffed and turned around, her cheeks completely flushed.

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row— “Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!”

Kit, glad for something new to think about, looked up at the sky, where something was heading towards them. 

“It’s a dragon!” shrieked one of the first years.

As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powderblue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

“Bloody hell,” Kit gasped as the first three rows of students jumped backward as the carriage landed with tremendous speed, a large crash sounding as the horses’ hooves hit the ground. 

The door of the carriage bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars) before it opened. A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. 

From the carriage emerged the largest woman Kit had ever seen. She must have been as big as Hagrid, and she looked so elegant that everyone stared in amazement. 

Dumbledore started to clap, and the students following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman. Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

“My dear Madame Maxime,” he said. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

“Dumbly-dort,” said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. “I ‘ope I find you well?”

“In excellent form, I thank you,” said Dumbledore.

“My pupils,” said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

About a dozen boys and girls emerged from the carriage, and moved to stand behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. 

“’As Karkaroff arrived yet?” Madame Maxime asked.

“He should be here any moment,” said Dumbledore. “Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?”

“Warm up, I think,” said Madame Maxime. “But ze ‘orses—“

“Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them,” said Dumbledore, “the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other— er— charges.”

“My steeds require— er— forceful ‘andling,” said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. “Zey are very strong...”

“I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job,” said Dumbledore, smiling.

“Very well,” said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. “Will you please inform zis ‘Agrid zat ze ‘orses drink only single-malt whiskey?”

“It will be attended to,” said Dumbledore, also bowing.

“Come,” said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

“Remember that mishap with the Philospher’s Stone that Harry and his friends got into first year?” inquired Kit. 

“Yes, what about it?” asked Mimi as she stopped Orla from trying to go pet the gigantic horses. 

“Nicolas Flamel— the discoverer of the Stone— and his wife Perenelle were students at Beauxbatons.”

“Wow,” Su breathed. “I wonder what it must be like to go there. Some of those boys were really good looking.”

Kit laughed. “I was paying attention to the horses. I think they’re Abraxans. Weird to think of… Draco’s grandfather was named Abraxas. It’s the only reason we were interested in those horses as kids. Draco said he’d get one when he turned seventeen.”

“I can imagine now, he’s reconsidering,” Mimi giggled. “He may be tall, but I bet even Hagrid will have trouble with those things!” 

“I want Hagrid and Madame Maxime to meet!” said Su dreamily. “He’s such a dear. And they might hit it off!”

“Don’t start thinking about playing matchmaker,” Terry warned as he leaned over. “You’ll be leaving yourself alone.”

Su huffed. “I will not! I just like the idea of putting together people who are meant for each other!”

Kit and Mimi let out a laugh as Terry and Anthony began to bicker with Su about how being matchmaker was not a good idea.

But just then, a loud and oddly eerie noise drifted out from the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed.

“The lake!” yelled Lee Jordan from the Gryffindor section, pointing down at it. “Look at the lake!”

The previously smooth surface of the lake was now rippling over the top— great bubbles forming before a whirlpool appeared. A long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool. Then came the rigging—

“It’s a ship!” cried Stephen. “It has to be!”

He was right. Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, came the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship’s portholes. At first, they all looked to be massive, and built like grizzly bears, but soon it became evident that the bull was due to shaggy, matted fur coats. The man at the lead was wearing a different sort of furs— sleek and silver, like his hair. 

Kit shivered. She knew the man. Igor Karkaroff. He’d been to her house before, and her father had been helping him get out of some sort of trouble. They seemed to be colleagues.

_“Igor! My friend, good to see you.”_

_Kit peeked through the railings, holding onto it as she watched her father clap Karkaroff on the back. The men began to have a hurried discussion, and Kit leaned further forward._

_“... need your help, Kenneth. I just…”_

_Kit strained to hear, and crept down the stairs a bit more, leaning forward to attempt to hear the rest of the conversation._

_“...don’t need to worry, Igor. I have done this before, I can handle…”_

_Kit wiggled down, trying to stay quiet. However, she missed a step, and slid down, hitting the bottom of the stairs with a crash, her legs nearly flopping completely over her back. She used to be quite flexible, though anyone who didn’t know that would think she had been snapped in two._

_Unfortunately, she was heard, and as she scrambled up, Kenneth came back around the corner and glared up at her. “Don’t spy, Katherine, it is beneath you. Go to your room.”_

“Dumbledore!” he called heartily as he walked up the slope. “How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?”

“Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff,” Dumbledore replied. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.

“Dear old Hogwarts,” he said, looking up at the castle and smiling. Kit didn’t like that— it seemed fake. “How good it is to be here, how good... Viktor, come along, into the warmth... you don’t mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold...”

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, Kit let out a loud gasp.

“No way!” Roger Davies said a few rows behind her. “It’s Viktor Krum!”


	10. Chapter 10

**Kit was perfectly fine with a professional Quidditch player in the midst.**

Everyone else was sort of freaking out.

Kit just sort of shrugged it off as Su and Mimi began squealing and whispering things. For Kit, he was attractive, but more so because of his skill. She caught a glimpse of Hermione, who didn’t seem excited, and grinned. Either way, the only Quidditch player that Kit was interested in at the moment was Cedric Diggory.

Once they all arrived in the Great Hall, the Hogwarts students got situated at their respective tables. The Beauxbatons students chose to get seats at the Ravenclaw table (likely due to the blue theme). Terry and Anthony attempted to coax some of the girls to sit nearer, and Kit giggled when the girls chose to sit nearer to the seventh and sixth year Ravenclaw boys.

“Guess they don’t go for younger men,” Su sighed playfully.

“You, shut up,” Anthony murmured. “I saw you gawking at Krum.”

“I was not!”

“Yes you were! You were even _drooling_.”

Kit smirked as Su hissed and kicked Anthony under the table.

Meanwhile, the Durmstrang students had settled into the Slytherin table. Kit noticed Draco looking smug as Krum sat across from him. 

She turned back to her friends, who were immersed in either an argument about Krum, or a ploy to get closer to the Beauxbatons girls. Kit peered over at Blaise, seeing he was actually trying to talk to one of the Durmstrang boys. 

Bored with her current predicament, Kit yanked off her cloak and tie, tucking it under her arm before going to the Gryffindor table, where Ron was trying to catch a glimpse of Krum.

“Oh, not you, too!” she sighed. “Everyone over there is gawking at either Krum or the Beauxbatons girls. I respect it, but it’s not the environment for me.”

“It’s Malfoy!” Ron said. “He’s smarming up to Krum! I bet Krum can see right through him, though... bet he gets people fawning over him all the time... Where d’you reckon they’re going to sleep? We could offer him a space in our dormitory, Harry... I wouldn’t mind giving him my bed, I could kip on a camp bed.”

Hermione snorted, and looked over at Kit. “I don’t understand what all the fuss is about for Krum. He’s just a Durmstrang student.”

Kit assented. “He’s a good Quidditch player, sure, but I’d rather fawn over Ced—“ she quickly covered her mouth.

Thankfully, Harry and Ron didn’t hear, but Hermione’s eyes widened and she gave Kit a sly smile.

“Don’t you tell anyone, Hermione Granger!” hissed Kit quickly, turning pink.

“Of course I won’t tell anyone,” said Hermione, though she seemed overly excited at the new information. 

“I’m serious,” Kit insisted. “Please—“

“Kit! Your secret is safe with me.”

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and— most particularly— guests,” said Dumbledore, once everyone was completely settled. “I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!”

The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than Kit had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.

“What’s that?” said Ron, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.

“Bouillabaisse,” said Hermione.

“Bless you,” said Ron, making Kit giggle. 

“It’s French,” said Hermione, “I had it on holiday summer before last. It’s very nice.” 

“I’ll take your word for it,” said Ron, helping himself to black pudding.

Kit was very pleased as she served herself small portions of everything, before finally finding what she liked most. 

After several moments, a voice said, “Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?” 

Kit turned, and was almost blinded. The Beauxbatons girl behind her had a long sheet of silvery-blonde hair almost to her waist. She had large, deep blue eyes, and very white, even teeth. Kit squinted to look at her. 

“Yeah, have it,” said Harry, pushing the dish toward the girl after Ron failed to find his voice to answer the question. 

“You ‘ave finished wiz it?”

“Yeah,” Ron said breathlessly. “Yeah, it was excellent.”

The girl picked up the dish and carried it carefully off to the Ravenclaw table. Ron was still goggling at the girl as though he had never seen one before. Harry and Kit started to laugh. The sound seemed to jog Ron back to his senses.

“She’s a veela!” he said hoarsely to Harry.

“Of course she isn’t!” said Hermione tartly. “I don’t see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!”

“Actually, it makes sense,” Kit murmured. “She is probably not full veela, but lots of boys have been staring at some of the Beauxbatons girls. I don’t think they’re completely normal.”

“Exactly!” said Ron, leaning sideways so he could keep a clear view of the girl. “They don’t make them like that at Hogwarts!”

“They make them okay at Hogwarts,” noted Harry, looking over at the Ravenclaw table. Kit furrowed her eyebrows, before realizing he was staring at Cho Chang.

“When you’ve both put your eyes back in,” said Hermione briskly, “you’ll be able to see who’s just arrived.”

She was pointing up at the staff table. Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Professor Karkaroff’s other side, while Mr. Barty Crouch, someone who Kit vaguely recognized, was next to Madame Maxime. 

“What are they doing here?” said Harry in surprise.

“They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn’t they?” said Hermione. “I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start.”

When the second course arrived they noticed a number of unfamiliar desserts too. Kit could hardly pay attention now, because she had looked over at the Hufflepuff table and caught a glimpse of Cedric Diggory chatting very happily with one of his mates. She felt a twinge of jealousy, but quickly shook it away. She shouldn’t feel that. It wasn’t like he was her boyfriend. She doubted he’d ever be.

She attempted to focus back on the staff table, and noticed something strange immediately. She remembered suddenly the man she’d seen in the woods on the night of the Quidditch World Cup. He had been there, and suddenly not. Now, she almost thought she'd seen the man again— except she was actually staring at Mr. Crouch. The resemblance and initial confusion, however, were uncanny, and Kit found herself feeling unsettled. 

However, she didn’t have time to ponder on it. As soon as the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore moved forward. 

“The moment has come,” said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. “The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket —”

“The what?” Harry muttered. Ron shrugged, and Kit just smirked. 

“—just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation”— there was a smattering of polite applause— “and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. 

“Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament,” Dumbledore continued, “and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions’ efforts.”

At the mention of the word “champions,” the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, “The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch.”

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. 

“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman,” said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, “and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways... their magical prowess - their daring - their powers of deduction— and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.”

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing. Seemed maybe all the younger students who wanted to enter, would reconsider. 

“As you know, three champions compete in the tournament,” Dumbledore went on calmly, “one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire.”

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue- white flames. Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.

“Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet,” said Dumbledore. “Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

“To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

“Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all.”

“An Age Line!” Fred Weasley said, his eyes glinting, as Kit followed them out to the entrance hall. “Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn’t it? And once your name’s in that goblet, you’re laughing— it can’t tell whether you’re seventeen or not!”

“Don’t be silly,” Kit chided. “You can’t know enough to bypass a spell like that.”

“Speak for yourself,” said George shortly. “You’ll try and get in, won’t you, Harry?”

Harry was too lost in looking back at something to answer. “Where is he?” said Ron. It seemed both boys were looking for Dumbledore. “Dumbledore didn’t say where the Durmstrang people are sleeping, did he?”

But this query was answered almost instantly; they were level with the Slytherin table now, and Karkaroff had just bustled up to his students.

“Back to the ship, then,” he was saying. “Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?”

Krum shook his head as he pulled his furs back on. “Professor, I vood like some vine,” said one of the other Durmstrang boys hopefully.

“I wasn’t offering it to you, Poliakoff,” snapped Karkaroff, his warmly paternal air vanishing in an instant. “I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy -”

Karkaroff turned and led his students toward the doors, reaching them at exactly the same moment as Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Kit. Harry stopped to let him walk through first, making Kit nearly run into him.

“Thank you,” said Karkaroff carelessly, glancing at him. And then Karkaroff froze. He turned his head back to Harry and stared at him as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. Behind their headmaster, the students from Durmstrang came to a halt too. Karkaroff’s eyes moved slowly up Harry’s face and fixed upon his scar. 

The Durmstrang students were staring curiously at Harry too. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw comprehension dawn on a few of their faces. The boy with food all down his front nudged the girl next to him and pointed openly at Harry’s forehead.

“Yeah, that’s Harry Potter,” said a growling voice from behind them.

Professor Karkaroff spun around. Mad-Eye Moody was standing there, leaning heavily on his staff, his magical eye glaring unblinkingly at the Durmstrang headmaster.

The color drained from Karkaroff’s face as Kit watched. A terrible look of mingled fury and fear came over him. It was similar to how he’d looked when he arrived at her house all those years ago. 

“You!” he said, staring at Moody as though unsure he was really seeing him.

“Me,” said Moody grimly. “And unless you’ve got anything to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You’re blocking the doorway.”

Karkaroff made a small noise, looked over at Kit briefly, as if recognizing her, then swept his students away. 

Kit then bade the others farewell and headed toward her Common Room, only to find Su and Anthony still bickering. She sighed and decided that once it was late enough, she’d sneak out. 

However, sleep got the better of Kit, and when she woke up on Saturday, her plans of traipsing the castle were forgotten, and she found she was awake much earlier than usual. She left quickly, getting dressed and deciding to breakfast already, only to find many students were doing the same, milling around the entrance hall. 

“Hello,” she greeted as she found Hermione, Harry, and Ron, who were staring at the Goblet of Fire, which had been placed in the center of the hall on the stool that normally bore the Sorting Hat. A thin golden line had been traced on the floor, forming a circle ten feet around it in every direction.

“Anyone put their name in yet?” Ron asked a third-year girl eagerly as she passed. 

“All the Durmstrang lot,” she replied. “But I haven’t seen anyone from Hogwarts yet.”

“Bet some of them put it in last night after we’d all gone to bed,” said Harry. “I would’ve if it had been me... wouldn’t have wanted everyone watching. What if the goblet just gobbed you right back out again?”

Someone laughed behind Kit. Turning, she saw Fred, George, and Lee Jordan hurrying down the staircase, all three of them looking extremely excited.

“They’re idiots,” she huffed as they arrived to their side.

“Done it,” Fred said in a triumphant whisper to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “Just taken it.”

“What?” said Ron, oblivious. 

“The Aging Potion, dung brains,” said Fred.

“One drop each,” said George, rubbing his hands together with glee. “We only need to be a few months older.”

“We’re going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins,” said Lee, grinning broadly.

“I’m not sure this is going to work, you know,” said Hermione warningly, making Kit nod. “I’m sure Dumbledore will have thought of this.”

Fred, George, and Lee ignored them both. 

“Ready?” Fred said to the other two, quivering with excitement. “C’mon, then— I’ll go first—“

Fred pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing the words Fred Weasley - Hogwarts. Fred walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line.

Nothing happened at first, and George quickly imitated him and leapt after Fred. However, there was suddenly a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by an invisible shot- putter. They landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor, and to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards.

The entrance hall rang with laughter. Even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other’s beards.

“I did warn you,” said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. “I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours.”

“Of course, Sandrine Fawcett did it,” sighed Kit as Fred and George set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter. 

“There’s a rumor going around that Warrington got up early and put his name in,” Dean Thomas told them once Kit had gone with the trio to sit at the Gryffindor table again. “That big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth.”

Harry shook his head in disgust. “We can’t have a Slytherin champion!”

“Don’t be rude,” said Kit. “Warrington might be rude on the Quidditch Pitch, but Blaise says he’s pretty nice!”

“I’d still prefer a Gryffindor,” countered Seamus Finnigan. “On the other end— the Hufflepuffs are talking about Diggory. But I wouldn’t have thought he’d have wanted to risk his good looks.”

Hermione looked at Kit, who just huffed. “What’s with you all being so picky? Who cares? It’s not like you all are going to have a say about it.”

“Still, rather have it be a Gryffindor,” Seamus said, making Kit roll her eyes.

“Listen!” said Hermione suddenly.

People were cheering out in the entrance hall. They all swiveled around in their seats and saw Angelina Johnson coming into the Hall, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way. Kit vaguely recognized her as a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Seamus whooped.

Angelina came over to them, sat down, and said, “Well, I’ve done it! Just put my name in!”

“You’re kidding!” said Ron, looking impressed.

“Are you seventeen, then?” asked Harry.

“Course she is, can’t see a beard, can you?” said Ron. “I had my birthday last week,” said Angelina.

“Well, I’m glad someone from Gryffindor’s entering,” said Hermione. “I really hope you get it, Angelina!”

“Thanks, Hermione,” said Angelina, smiling at her.

“Yeah, better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory,” said Seamus, causing several Hufflepuffs passing their table to scowl heavily at him.

“Stop being a prat, Seamus,” Kit said, rolling her eyes yet again. Seamus smirked, and Dean nudged him. 

When Hermione finished breakfast, Harry and Ron followed her out, but Kit took her time finishing. Dean and Seamus left soon after, whispering something to themselves, and Kit was left alone at the Ravenclaw table. 

“You know, you should probably sit with your own House.”

Kit turned, and nearly fainted when she saw Cedric Diggory. “Oh— um— my friends just left.”

He offered her a smile. “I remember you. Youngest one on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, right?”

“Y-Yes,” stammered Kit, now feeling really nervous. “I’m Kit.”

“Thompson, right?” Cedric reached out his hand. “I’m Cedric Diggory.”

Kit had to resist the impulse to say ‘I know,’ and simply shook his hand. “You er— put your name in?”

“I just did,” Cedric replied. 

“Oh. Good luck,” she said, feeling a blush creeping on her cheek.

“Thanks,” Cedric said brightly. “Hey, if you’re not busy, maybe we could—“

“Oi, Thompson!”

Kit wanted to scream. She turned, to see Draco coming over. “What, Draco?” she sighed, wanting to kick him away.

“Blaise is looking for you,” Draco said a bit harshly. Kit frowned. In the background, Blaise was comfortably eating, and had a clear view of her. “You should go speak to him. Now.” He was acting unnaturally commanding. 

“I’ll let you get back to your friends.” Cedric smiled, waved, and walked away.

“Screw you,” Kit hissed as she stood up. “I was talking to him!”

“You’ll never get the chance to screw me,” said Draco smugly. “And oh, did I interrupt your chat with your future husband? Pity.”

Kit growled. “Fuck off.” She tried to look where Cedric was, but he was gone. Annoyed, she left without another word to Draco. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Kit basically wanted to commit murder at the Halloween feast.**

She didn’t, of course. But as she looked past the decorations to where Draco seemed to be having the time of his life, she got the urge to go punch him, or worse. 

Her first chance to really talk to Cedric and everything went wrong about it! She really could kill Draco and not care. 

What the bloody hell was even his problem? Ever since she mentioned Cedric, he seemed to be completely annoyed by him. She might have said he was jealous, but that wouldn’t make sense. Jealous of what? 

“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” said Dumbledore at last. Kit had tuned out, and slowly brought her attention back to the front. Beside her, Su eagerly sat up. “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber” — he indicated the door behind the staff table— “where they will be receiving their first instructions.”

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. 

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it— the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm’s length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

“The champion for Durmstrang,” he read, in a strong, clear voice, “will be Viktor Krum.”

“Yes!” Su squealed, making Kit sigh. That seemed like an obvious choice. She saw Viktor Krum rise from the Slytherin table and slouch up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

“Bravo, Viktor!” boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. “Knew you had it in you!”

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone’s attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

“The champion for Beauxbatons,” said Dumbledore, “is Fleur Delacour!”

The part veela girl got up a few seats down from Kit. The other Beauxbatons students looked completely distraught at the news. 

When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next...

And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

“The Hogwarts champion,” he called, “is Cedric Diggory!”

Kit’s sudden anger burned away immediately, and she began to clap rapidly, feeling her heart racing. She turned behind her to the Hufflepuff table, where Cedric got up amidst his Housemates, who were on their feet, screaming and stamping. Cedric made his way down, and for a second, glanced directly at Kit, who clapped even faster. He headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers’ table. Indeed, the applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. “Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real—“ 

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.

The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out: “Harry Potter.”

There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry as he sat, frozen, in his seat. Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning slightly. 

This seemed wrong. Kit turned to where Harry had turned white as snow. He looked terrified, confused… so many other emotions Kit couldn’t begin to explain. This had to be a mistake, right? This didn’t add up. 

When Harry didn’t move, Dumbledore called for him. “Harry Potter! Harry! Up here, if you please!”

Kit watched as Harry got to his feet, stumbled slightly, and walked to where the professors were waiting for him. As soon as he disappeared, Professor Sprout announced for everyone to return to their sleeping quarters.

“Come on, Kit,” said Su as she stood.

“No,” said Kit immediately. “I’ll wait for Harry.”

“You don’t have—“

“I want to,” Kit affirmed. “Hermione and Ron are leaving, I can see that. I want him to have someone here.”

“Okay.” Su shrugged and left. Kit remained rooted to her seat, crossing her arms and leaning forward. 

“Kit.” It was Blaise who’d come up now. “Come hang out with me for a bit.”

“I want to wait for Harry,” she insisted, putting her head down.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Kit’s head snapped up at the new voice. “Shut up, Draco!” She hissed. “I've had enough of you today!”

“Don’t be such a suck up,” Draco hissed. 

“If she wants to stay, she can,” Blaise said.

Draco looked at him like he was crazy. “She shouldn’t! Potter probably put his name in so he could get attention!”

Kit growled. “I don’t think that’s what happened! I’m going to wait here to see him when he’s done.”

“Why would you even waste your time on Potter?” huffed Draco.

“Because he’s my friend!” Kit snapped. “Why do you even care so much?”

Draco opened his mouth to say something, but it seemed he was at a loss for words. Finally, he just scoffed. “There’s only one reason you’d care that much. You’re _shagging_ him.”

Kit’s eyebrows soared up, and immediately, her face contorted with rage. “You— you vile boy! I am not shagging Harry! He’s my friend! But of course, you wouldn’t know what that means.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Sure. It all makes sense now. Your sudden interest in Potter. Couldn’t help but sleep with Scarhead, could you?”

“Shut up!” snarled Kit. “Shut the bloody hell up! You— you’re such— I just—“ she could hardly form a sentence, and Blaise had to shove Draco aside before Kit launched herself at him.

“I’ll see you around,” Blaise said quickly, leaning over to ruffle her hair before smacking Draco on the back of his head and shoving him to the door, away from Kit.

Kit was so angry, all she could do was run over Draco’s accusations in her head as she waited. In that sense, it made the wait much shorter, but she was too furious to think about that.

What on _Earth_ was he thinking? For her to be shagging Harry? It sounded like he just wanted to act stupid. Coincidentally, he had avoided her question. Kit rubbed her temples. All of this was so confusing.

At last, Madame Maxime emerged alongside Fleur Delacour, followed closely by Karkaroff and Viktor Krum. Kit waited until she saw Cedric and Harry, then ran up to them.

“What’s happened?” she asked immediately. “Are you alright?”

“I have to compete,” Harry said bitterly. Kit did her best to ignore Cedric while she hugged Harry. “I’m sorry— I’m sorry this happened.” She walked between the two boys, her arm still around Harry.

“So,” said Cedric, with a slight smile, seemingly trying to lighten the mood. “We’re playing against each other again!”

“I s’pose,” said Harry dejectedly.

“So... tell me...” said Cedric as they reached the entrance hall, which was now lit only by torches in the absence of the Goblet of Fire. “How did you get your name in?”

“I didn’t,” said Harry, staring up at him. “I didn’t put it in. I was telling the truth.” He turned to Kit. “I swear I didn’t put it in.”

“I believe you.” She looked over at Cedric, who stared back at her. “Don’t you dare doubt him,” she huffed, setting aside her feelings to defend her friend. “Harry wouldn’t do something like this.” 

Cedric flinched a bit, then slowly nodded. “Alright. I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“S’okay,” Harry mumbled.

Cedric cleared his throat. “We should all probably go to sleep, then. Kit, may I walk you to your Common Room?”

Despite how much that excited her, Kit shook her head. “Maybe some other time. I’m walking Harry to his Common Room.”

“Ah. Okay, I’ll see you around.” He nodded respectfully and departed.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Harry whispered.

“I wanted to.” Kit led him all the way back to Gryffindor Tower. She said nothing, knowing he was probably still processing things and needed the silence. As they arrived, she hugged him and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be here for you, whatever you need,” she promised.

“Thanks, Kit,” sighed Harry as he entered the portrait hole.

Kit gave a sigh of her own before turning back to the path to her own Common Room.

However, she was soon joined by another figure. At first glance, Kit thought it was Cedric due to the height, but when she turned, she saw Draco.

“Oh, fuck off!” she hissed, starting to walk faster. Draco matched her pace effortlessly. 

“Kiss on the cheek?” he sneered. “I knew you and Potter were cozy.”

Kit whirled around and slapped him, making Draco stumble back. “Stop following me!” snapped Kit. “Stop walking me to my Common Room! You’re being so insufferable— I don’t want you anywhere near me! You don’t talk to me for years and suddenly you’re just rubbing salt in the wound you left when you abandoned me as your friend— just because I was Ravenclaw!”

Draco seemed to be at a loss for words. Luckily (and unluckily) for him, Kit wasn’t finished. “I am _not_ shagging Harry Potter!” Kit breathed angrily. “I’m not shagging anyone! Not kissing anyone! Because thanks to you, I don’t even get to talk to a boy I find attractive! And no one else wants anything to do with me because I’m a foul sight! So don’t you dare joke about my romantic life— it’s none of your business! You needn’t preoccupy yourself with who I do or do not marry, or who I do or do not shag! It’s not for you to know!”

She panted when she finished and began to walk once more, only to hear Draco still following behind her. But before she could snarl at him some more, he spoke. “I’m going to walk you to your Common Room whether you like it or not.” It came out as a growl, as if her rant had angered him. “With all those Durmstrang and Beauxbatons boys lurking around…” 

Kit felt a blush creep onto her cheeks. As angry as she was, she had to admit it was mildly flattering that he was still worried about her being hurt— now by the new crowds in the school who might be more bold and aim to hurt. 

She didn’t reply, however, and simply kept walking, still annoyed with him.

As they approached the door knocker for Ravenclaw House, Draco shifted back on the balls of his feet, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Are you going to wait for me to go in again?” Kit sighed.

“Obviously, Kit Kat,” Draco grunted, staring boredly at her.

“Why do you keep calling me that? You only called me that when we were friends.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I can call you whatever I want.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ll automatically be okay with it.” She turned to the eagle. “What asks, but never answers?” The cool voice asked.

“An owl,” Kit said immediately. “I heard that one before. Or maybe… parents. They’ll ask you to come down, but when you ask what for, they won’t answer.”

“Insightful,” the eagle answered as the door opened. Kit looked back to see Draco still staring intently at her. “Thanks,” she mumbled, though she was still mad.

“Hmm.” He turned to leave.

“Draco?”

He took his time turning back around. 

“Did my father tell you something?” 

“No,” he said.

“Then why do you keep taunting me about Harry and why did you block Cedric from talking to me?”

“Don’t ask questions whose answers you won’t like,” muttered Draco as he turned around and walked away.

**_**

Poor Harry seemed too devastated to Kit, and she could understand why. 

The Hufflepuffs, who were usually on excellent terms with the Gryffindors, had turned remarkably cold toward the whole lot of them, according to Harry and Hermione. 

In Care of Magical Creatures, Kit firsthand saw the Slytherins being bitchy about it. 

“Ah, look, boys, it’s the champion,” Draco said to Crabbe and Goyle the moment he got within earshot of Harry, nearby where Kit and Blaise were working with their Skrewts. “Got your autograph books? Better get a signature now, because I doubt he’s going to be around much longer... Half the Triwizard champions have died... how long d’you reckon you’re going to last, Potter? Ten minutes into the first task’s my bet.”

Crabbe and Goyle guffawed sycophantically. “Oh, shut up, Malfoy,” Kit hissed. Draco seemed to greatly dislike her calling him that, since she’d always stuck with calling him Draco, but at the moment, she was too displeased.

He didn’t retort, however, because Hagrid emerged from the back of his cabin balancing a teetering tower of crates, each containing a very large Blast-Ended Skrewt. To the class’s horror, Hagrid proceeded to explain that the reason the skrewts had been killing one another was an excess of pent-up energy, and that the solution would be for each student to fix a leash on a skrewt and take it for a short walk. 

“Take this thing for a walk?” Dracorepeated in disgust, staring into one of the boxes. “And where exactly are we supposed to fix the leash? Around the sting, the blasting end, or the sucker?”

“Roun’ the middle,” said Hagrid, demonstrating. “Er— yeh might want ter put on yer dragon-hide gloves, jus’ as an extra precaution, like. Harry— you come here an’ help me with this big one…”

Kit, of course, was the one who ended up putting the leash on her and Blaise’s Skrewt, as well as several others since no one was willing. She even helped Pansy Parkinson with hers. But she skipped over Draco’s without hesitation, making Blaise snicker as he tried to restrain their Skrewt.

Walking them was a terrifying ordeal. Everyone scattered immediately thanks to the Skrewts, who were now over three feet long, and extremely powerful. No longer shell— less and colorless, they had developed a kind of thick, grayish, shiny armor. They looked like a cross between giant scorpions and elongated crabs— but still without recognizable heads or eyes. They had become immensely strong and very hard to control.

“Hold it tighter, Blaise!” hissed Kit. 

“It’s dragging me!” Blaise retorted angrily. “The hell do you want me to do?”

Kit tiptoed closer to try and urge the Skrewt forward, but leapt back when it almost stung her.

Later, she and Blaise walked over to the dungeons for Double Potions alongside Harry, and Hermione. Harry seemed exceptionally annoyed. That was also when Kit noticed Ron wasn't talking to him— and he had already made it to the classroom. 

“Oi, what’s Weasley’s problem?” Blaise murmured to Kit and Hermione.

“He’s just… being Ron,” Hermione sighed, rubbing her forehead. Blaise patted her back encouragingly, which made Kit’s lips twitch. 

When they arrived, they found most of the Slytherins (except for Blaise, of course) waiting outside, each and every one of them wearing a large badge on the front of his or her robes. For one wild moment Kit thought they were S.P.E.W. badges (this would have been a bloody miracle), then she saw that they all bore the same message, in luminous red letters that burnt brightly in the dimly lit underground passage:

SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY—THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION!

“Like them, Potter?” said Draco loudly as Harry approached. “And this isn’t all they do— look!”

He pressed his badge into his chest, and the message upon it vanished, to be replaced by another one, which glowed green: POTTER STINKS!

The Slytherins howled with laughter. Each of them pressed their badges too, until the message POTTER STINKS was shining brightly all around Harry. He felt the heat rise in his face and neck.

“Oh very funny,” Kit said sarcastically to Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls, who were laughing harder than anyone. “You’re all _so_ intelligent.”

“ _Sooo_ witty,” taunted Hermione, also sarcastically. 

“Is that really necessary?” Blaise said tiredly as he looked over ar Draco.

Draco just smirked, and tossed one to Kit, who caught it only to throw it back, narrowly missing Draco’s head as he dodged.

“What about you, Granger?” Draco asked as he picked up the badge. “Want one?” He held it out to her. “I’ve got loads. But don’t touch my hand, now. I’ve just washed it, you see; don’t want a Mudblood sliming it up.”

“You little fucking bastard!” Kit screamed as Harry withdrew his wand. Blaise yanked Hermione and Kit back. People all around them scrambled out of the way, backing down the corridor.

“Harry!” Hermione said warningly.

“Go on, then, Potter,” Draco said quietly, drawing out his own wand. “Moody’s not here to look after you now— do it, if you’ve got the guts—“

For a split second, they looked into each other’s eyes, then, at exactly the same time, both acted. “Funnunculus!” Harry yelled.

“Densaugeo!” screamed Draco.

Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles— Harry’s hit Goyle in the face, and Draco hit Hermione. Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up - Hermione, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth.

“Hermione!” Blaise yelled as Ron hurried forward to see what’s wrong with her. Kit immediately shielded her from view as she covered her face, knowing exactly what was going to happen. Ron dragged Hermione’s hand away from her face. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Hermione’s front teeth— already larger than average, similarly to Kit’s— were now growing at an alarming rate; she was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin— panic-stricken, she felt them and let out a terrified cry.

Blaise yanked his cloak off and handed it to her to drape over her mouth. “Here— this will cover it better than your hand when they keep growing.”

Kit was about to turn around and attempt an Unforgivable on Draco when Snape arrived. 

“And what is all this noise about?” He said a soft, deadly voice.

The Slytherins clamored to give their explanations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Draco and said, “Explain.”

“Potter attacked me, sir—“

“We attacked each other at the same time!” Harry shouted.

“—and he hit Goyle—look—“

Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi.

“Hospital wing, Goyle,” Snape said calmly. 

“Malfoy got Hermione!” Ron said. “Look!”

He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth— she was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape’s back.

Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, “I see no difference.”

Hermione let out a whimper; her eyes filled with tears, she turned on her heel and ran, ran all the way up the corridor and out of sight.

That was it for Kit. Her eyes blazed with fury as Blaise ran after Hermione. Her hands shook, and before she could stop herself, she began to snarl at Snape.

“You— foul, ugly, hateful bastard!” She growled. The students gave out loud gasps. The Slytherins and Gryffindors hadn’t yet seen Kit go off on Snape, as it was customary for her to do. Even so, she’d never insulted him like this. She knew better, but she didn’t think to stop. “This is exactly why you’re not married! No one could stand having to be around such a cruel prick like you! If you had children, they’d disown you, not the other way around! You better fucking—“

“Detention, Thompson,” sneered Snape snidely, his nostrils flaring. “How dare— how—“

“Someone needed to fucking tell you!” Kit bellowed. “How can you stand there and take an oath as a Professor to teach when all you do is make us want to kill ourselves everytime we step into your class? No wonder your nose is so crooked, you must have been tossed around a lot when you came here, being the spineless—“

“Sixty points from Ravenclaw!” yelled Snape, looking more furious than Kit had ever seen him. “And detention for a week! I’ll be writing to your father about this, Thompson, mark my words.”

Kit didn’t let herself waver. She tossed up a rude hand gesture before turning on her heels and walking down to the Hospital Wing, where she was sure she’d find Hermione.

Blaise was beside her as Madam Pomfey settled Hermione into a bed, and handed her a mirror.

“Mr. Zabini, Miss Thompson, spot her for me,” Madam Pomfrey said calmly. “Simply say ‘stop’ when your teeth are ready, Miss Granger.”

Hermione nodded glumly, waiting as her teeth came back to normal. Blaise had lifted his cloak around the bed to shield her from the view of anyone else in the Hospital Wing.

“I’m really sorry, Hermione,” Kit whispered as she held the mirror for her so she could wipe her eyes.

Hermione just shook her head. 

“Snape is such a bastard,” Blaise growled.

“I know,” Kit said. “I just lost Ravenclaw sixty points telling him. Ooh— Hermione, see, they’re shrinking faster, that’s good, right?”

Hermione nodded. “Want them to be a bit smaller than before,” she whispered. “My mum and dad won’t let me fix them. They’re Muggle dentists.”

“Alright,” said Kit. “We support you.”

She peered at herself slightly in the mirror, gazing at her own larger than normal teeth. Perhaps she should try a shrinking charm too. 

When Hermione was at a comfortable size, Kit nodded to let her know it looked good before she said ‘stop.’ Madam Pomfrey returned and took the mirror before dismissing Hermione. 

“Let’s go sit in the courtyard for a bit,” suggested Blaise. “No need to go back to class. Someone will pass us the notes.”

“Thank you, you two,” Hermione whispered as she handed Blaise his cloak back, her cheeks pink. 


	12. Chapter 12

**The whole time they sat in the courtyard, Kit wanted to conduct a wedding.**

It was a silly thought, but Kit had never seen Blaise and Hermione interact this much. Sure, Blaise had talked to her, Harry, and Ron several times, but this was different.

The cloak he’d handed Hermione for extra protection was on his lap, and he kept playing with it. He had struck up a conversation about Arithmancy. Kit didn’t really care much for Arithmancy because that was near her nap hour after practice, but it seemed Blaise and Hermione were both completely fascinated with the subject. 

It was the subtle things that made Kit realize how well these two meshed together. For one, Blaise was thoroughly engaged in anything and everything Hermione said. He listened patiently, responded with interest and so adequately that it made their conversation flow so naturally that soon, Hermione was smiling again, showing off her adjusted teeth, and Blaise was leaning toward her, his hands still twitching and fiddling with the fabric of the cloak. They didn’t notice that Kit was only listening.

She didn’t mind. It felt relieving to see them speaking so naturally. Blaise had to be the most open minded Slytherin that Kit knew. He’d never once called any Muggle-born by a slur, he’d never remained calm when anyone else said it (he usually snarled at them for a while). He had always had a great deal of respect for Hermione, and it helped he found her attractive.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hermione said quickly, covering her mouth as she drooled a bit from how excited she got speaking. She turned pink as she wiped her mouth.

“No worries,” said Blaise understandingly. “It’s normal. And besides, I’m sure you’re still getting a feel in for your new smile. It looks great, by the way.”

Hermione turned pinker behind the sleeve of her cloak. “Thank you. I just wish there was a spell to permanently fix hair.”

“The frizz and poof, while you see it as unfortunate, makes your hair look very healthy and alive,” noticed Blaise. “It bounces when you walk, and it makes you look more intimidating. In a good way— it lets people know to take you seriously. It frames your face perfectly and makes you look really nice.”

Kit wanted to push their heads together and make them kiss, but she held back. Hermione had taken a strand of her hair and twirled it in her finger slightly, blushing in Blaise’s direction. “Thank you…”

When the period had ended, Hermione and Blaise bade each other farewell, and Kit couldn’t help but smirk and nudge him. “Look at you, making moves.”

“I’m just thankful she doesn’t dislike me,” said Blaise.

“Why would she dislike you? You’re kind to her, you listen. Like… Ron and Harry… they listen but they never really get too into what she’s saying about school because they don’t care enough. You made her feel special and meaningful. You complimented her on her most obvious insecurities. That, my friend, is how you treat someone right.”

Blaise must have turned red, but Kit wasn’t looking. She was staring at the path ahead, as an owl came fluttering their way, and dropped a letter in front of Kit. 

She recognized the handwriting in the front that read ‘To: Katherine Cordelia Thompson.’ 

“Guess Snape really sent that letter right away,” Kit huffed as she tore it open. “I’m going to go read it in the library.”

“Want me to come?” offered Blaise.

“No, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you around, alright?” 

Blaise nodded and left respectfully. 

Kit moved into the library, ignoring Madam Pince giving her a reproachful stare. Kit was usually too loud whenever she was in the library. She sat at her usual table furthest from Madam Pince’s desk, and tore open the envelope.

_Katherine,_

_The disappointment we feel would better be expressed in a Howler, but you simply do not learn. How dare you think it is appropriate to speak to your elders in such a manner? Especially a Professor and colleague of ours. You’re embarrassing us, as always._

Kit rolled her eyes. That was probably her father’s words, exactly. But the handwriting was her mother’s. 

_We have also learned that you’ve had adjustments to your schedule, and are under the impression that you sought to spend more time with the Slytherins and Gryffindor brats. While the former is a pleasure to hear, the latter is only more reason for us to wish that we had kept your sister an only child._

The Ravenclaw gritted her teeth. One, they clearly didn’t understand that her schedule adjustment was for academic purposes, not to spend more time with another House. Secondly, they had once again only mentioned her sister when it came to putting Kit down. As if being a Thompson wasn’t degrading enough. 

_We will continue to ask Professor Snape to update us on you regularly. Clearly the bit of freedom we give you has only led to more misfortune and bad behavior. We do not wish to hear your reply._

Kit tore the letter in pieces, stomping her feet angrily. She felt angry, frustrated tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. No, she simply wouldn’t let herself cry. That would be letting them have the upper hand, even if they didn’t witness it themselves. She quickly raised her sleeve and wiped the tears away before setting the letter on the table. 

“Evanesco,” she whispered. The pieces disappeared, and Kit slumped her head down on the table.

“Well, that’s a complicated spell for your year.”

Kit looked up wearily, but quickly composed herself when she saw Cedric. “Oh… er— I asked Professor McGonagall to teach it to me after I read about it in a book. I was bored.”

“Clever.” He sat across from her. “What’s wrong? Do you need someone to talk to?”

Normally, Kit wasn’t one to open up. But with Cedric, she felt at ease. Like he really wouldn’t judge her. Of course, she wasn’t about to fully trust him either.

“Just my parents,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “It’s fine.”

“Clearly it’s not fine. I can see the look on your face. How about we walk around the castle? That might cheer you up. I was going to ask you to before, but well, Malfoy had different plans.”

Kit smiled wryly. “Yeah, he did. I’d like that. I can’t promise I’ll tell you more, but… I’d feel better if we did walk.” 

Cedric nodded. “Of course, no pressure. I would be honored for you to trust me, but I won’t press you to. I understand this is likely a sensitive subject.”

Kit stood, and Cedric led the way out. Kit already felt a bit better just being beside him. 

“Malfoy seems to fancy you,” said Cedric once they reached a more empty hallway. He must have been trying to liven the mood. 

Kit laughed lightly and shook her head. “Cedric, I think maybe you don’t remember getting a Bludger to the head.”

“No, I’m serious,” he chuckled. “Why else would he be so intent on getting me away? I saw him walking you to your dormitory the other night when I left the Prefect’s bathroom.”

She blushed. “Oh, you saw?” She rubbed the back of her head awkwardly. “Don’t tell anyone, he gets really weird about it. Dunno why he cares.”

“I was under the impression you despised each other. I remember that match in second year— I think it was Slytherin’s first match against Ravenclaw… he started spitting things about Davies and you went and started hissing at him. At first, I thought it was just Quidditch bickering because my father had told me the Thompson and Malfoy families were friends. Then, when you slapped him… I started realizing you didn’t get along at all.”

Kit let out a breathy chuckle at this. “I didn’t know you even knew me before.” She started to ponder on what he’d said. Could it be true? Potentially, it could. But it just didn’t make sense. It fit his behavior, being so kind to her all of the sudden (well, still passive aggressive but he was being more caring than usual). It was just so unfathomable that Kit had to brush the idea off. For Draco to fancy her… pigs would really need to fly. 

“Of course I knew you,” he said, walking a bit closer to her. “The whole school knows you. Davies used to talk a lot about you, said you were a blessing for the team. Then, well, McGonagall mentions you sometimes. Says you’re the best in Ravenclaw House for Transfiguration, at least at O.W.L. level. You’re an admirable person, Kit.”

Kit turned pinker, if that was possible. “Thank you, Cedric. You’re admirable too. Everyone knows how brilliant you are, and you’re a remarkable Seeker.”

“Not as good as Harry,” Cedric chuckled. “That’s another admirable thing about you. Your loyalty. You defended him in front of me when I was being rude. Most students wouldn’t stand to do that to an older student.”

He didn’t know the half of it! Kit had stood up to the boy she was sure she was starting to fancy. But of course, that sounded narcissistic in a sense, therefore she kept quiet. 

“Poor Harry,” Kit sighed instead. “I worry so much about him.”

“I do too. I don’t know what this first task will be, but I’d feel terrible if he got hurt. It’s simply not fair.”

Kit wasn’t sure how much time elapsed between the beginning and the end of the conversation, but she found herself completely at ease by the time it was over. Talking with Cedric reminded her of how good it felt to be able to ease down on the walls she’d placed to prevent herself from expressing inner weakness, which her parents had taught her was shameful. Despite not actually revealing her life story to him, Kit felt comfortable to discuss any topic, and was able to laugh and be more vulnerable than she usually was. For a moment, it’d reminded her of how she and Draco used to talk, when they were children. By the time they’d walked around the majority of the castle and Cedric was gone, all Kit was thinking about was what he’d said. 

Did Draco fancy her? 

Ha, she thought, that would be the day…

**_**

Sometimes, Kit really wished that she could perform N.E.W.T. level magic on others.

The first task was right around the corner, and if that wasn’t bad enough for Harry, an interview he’d had with Rita Skeeter was now out for the public’s eyes, and Kit was repulsed.

For one, it was supposed to be an article about the Triwizars Tournament, but it had become a story about Harry. Much of the front page had been given over to a picture of Harry; the article (continuing on pages two, six, and seven) had been all about Harry, the names of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions (misspelled) had been squashed into the last line of the article, and Cedric hadn’t been mentioned at all.

Harry had felt sick the day the article appeared, and that’d been ten days ago. Kit was sure that at any moment, he mind end up bedridden in the Hospital Wing. 

Kit already despised Rita Skeeter because her parents spoke so low of her, and now Kit knew firsthand that this was another thing they were right about.

The vile woman had reported things that Harry insisted he hadn’t even said. Some rubbish about how he still cried about his parents, how they were watching over him. While Harry confirmed to Kit, Blaise, and Su on separate occasions that he did miss his parents, he hadn’t turned the tragedy into a sob story.

What was worse was that Rita had gone and interviewed others to fabricate lies. Apparently Colin Creevey (a third year Gryffindor) had said something that made Rita state that Hermione and Harry were an item. 

From the moment the article had appeared, it’d become even worse for Harry with the Slytherins.

“Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying in Transfiguration?”

“Since when have you been one of the top students in the school, Potter? Or is this a school you and Longbottom have set up together?”

Kit had done her best to spout her share of foul words (with some help from Su, who hadn’t held back her own pent up anger from all her school stress). Even Blaise had gone out of his way to flip Draco off, and Kit had giggled, which she noticed made Draco even angrier.

“Hey— Harry!”

“Yeah, that’s right!” Harry whirled around and shouted as he, Kit, and Hermione walked to the library. “I’ve just been crying my eyes out over my dead mum, and I’m just off to do a bit more...”

“No— it was just— you dropped your quill.”

“Hi, Cho,” Kit said gently. She noticed Harry went tomato red. 

“Oh— right— sorry,” he muttered, taking the quill back.

“Hello,” said Cho, also blushing. “Er… good luck on Tuesday, Harry. I really hope you do well.”

Hermione had also become subject to several instances of unpleasantness, but Kit found she handled it well— much better than Harry, of course. 

“Stunningly pretty? Her?” Pansy Parkinson had shrieked the first time she had come face-to-face with Hermione after Rita’s article had appeared. “What was she judging against— a chipmunk?”

“Ignore it,” Hermione said in a dignified voice, holding her head in the air and stalking past the sniggering Slytherin girls as though she couldn’t hear them. “Just ignore it, Harry.”

But Kit, Blaise, and Su couldn’t ignore it. Perhaps it was the fact that Su and Hermione were becoming closer now, and the girl couldn’t hold back.

“You know what, Parkinson?” snapped Su, making Blaise and Kit leap forward to hold her back. Kit and Blaise were accustomed to first making rude gestures before reassuring Hermione, but Su had gone in for the kill, and Kit was tempted to let her go. “You should be talking because last I heard, you were in the running for Ugliest Face in England along with all the other pugs in the country!”

That had shut her up momentarily, but Kit wished she had let Su’s fists fly. Su may not have been a Quidditch player for Ravenclaw, but the girl was enough of a fanatic to play at home, and she was usually the Beater. 

As they arrived to the library, a very annoyed Hermione let out a loud sigh. Kit knew she was still very furious at Ron and Harry for not speaking. It was the reason Blaise, Su, and Kit were spending more time with Hermione and Harry, per Hermione’s request. 

Initially, it’d just been Hermione imploring for them to distract Harry. But now, it was also to allow Hermione to focus on her schoolwork. Sometimes, Su and Kit would entertain Harry with Quidditch conversations— a topic Hermione never entered because she knew it only frustrated Harry every time she tried to mention something and it was wrong. Other times, Blaise and Kit would speak to Harry while Su and Hermione worked on assignments. 

“I didn’t start this,” said Harry stubbornly as they sat down, noticing Hermione’s reproachful stare, and guessing exactly what she was thinking. “It’s his problem.”

“You miss him!” Hermione said impatiently. “And I know he misses you—“ 

“Miss him?” said Harry. “I don’t miss him...”

But this was a downright lie, and Kit knew it. Harry himself had told Kit and Su (not Blaise, because he could get very defensive regarding Hermione now) that he liked Hermione very much, but she just wasn’t the same as Ron. There was much less laughter and a lot more hanging around in the library when Hermione was your best friend. 

Another thing that Hermione seemed bothered with, and Harry seemed curious about: Viktor Krum’s constant presence in the library. Blaise usually ignored him, because he didn’t find Krum that impressive. Su would usually fawn over him, which made Hermione complain that all he did was attract groups of giggling girls that ended up distracting them. While Kit didn’t do work anyway, she agreed the girls were obnoxious. 

“He’s not even good-looking!” she muttered angrily, glaring at Krum’s sharp profile. “They only like him because he’s famous! They wouldn’t look twice at him if he couldn’t do that WonkyFaint thing—“

“Wronski Feint,” said Harry, through gritted teeth, sharing an exasperated look with Kit. She simply shrugged. They couldn’t hold it against Hermione.

“But he’s so _gorgeous_ ,” cooed Su one day when they’d been helping Harry study Summoning Charms again. She was leaning onto a stack of books to get a better look at him. “Oh! He keeps looking this way…”

“Maybe because he thinks you’re stalking him,” said Kit with a cheeky grin. 

“Or maybe because he has a crush on Harry,” Blaise had mumbled, having put his head down to try and sleep. 

But now, as Kit sat with only Hermione and Harry, she noticed that Krum still kept looking over. Slowly, it was dawning on her that one of two things were happening: he found one of them attractive (or annoying, which Kit supposed made it three things possibly), or he was trying to figure out what Harry’s approach would be. Kit doubted it was the latted— Krum didn’t seem the type. Clearly he was preoccupied with his own approach. 

“Kit,” said Harry, making her look away from Krum. “Remember how I told you that I wrote to Sirius?”

“Yes. I was wondering when you’d update me about that.”

“Sorry, it’s just— I’m unsure about telling Su and Blaise.”

Kit shrugged. “I understand. What did he say?”

“He wants to talk to me beside the common room fire. Hermione and I were wondering about what to do to keep people away— I was wondering if maybe you could hang out in there so no one sees him? He might not appear if he sees you, but if he does, tell him you’re waiting for me. Hagrid said he has something to show me… and I might be a tad late.”

“Of course!” Kit said. “I’d be glad to do it. I’m very good at making people go away, these days.”

Hermione snorted. “Just as long as you don’t curse at them again. You’re not supposed to be in our Common Room.” 

“Well, McGonagall won’t kick me out if I say I’m there for moral support with Harry,” said Kit with a smirk. “Snape’s the only one who catches me, and I already spent a week cleaning his stupid office. I’m sure McGonagall wouldn’t make me suffer more.”

The night Kit was meant to head to the Gryffindor Common Room, she found Cho lounging downstairs.

“Don’t get caught prowling around the castle again,” she warned as she peeked up from the book. 

“I’ll be good, I promise,” Kit said, tying her hair up and sitting down briefly to fix her shoe.

Cho bit her lip. “Say, you talk to Harry a lot now, right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you happen to know… who he fancies?”

Kit’s eyebrows just about flew off her face. “Do _you_ fancy Harry?” 

“I’m not sure,” Cho admitted. “He’s really good looking… but there’s also another boy who’s good looking. I think I fancy Harry and not the other boy but… it’s just very conflicting and I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Besides, the other boy and I don’t talk too much, he seems to fancy one of my friends. Which I respect. Which is why I’m asking you if you know who Harry fancies.”

Kit shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. But I think you have a chance with him. Just be upfront with him, and tell him, you know?”

Cho nodded slowly. “Thank you, Kit. I think I will tell him. Now go, and don’t get in trouble, alright?”

“I told you I’ll be good!” Kit chirped as she left the room.

She walked silently through the halls, attempting to listen for anyone that might catch her. However, she got lucky, and soon arrived at the Gryffindor Common Room, where she slipped in behind a group of first years, and crept to the fireplace, which was already deserted. Kit found Hermione already asleep on the couch, probably having been waiting for her.

Kit poked her gently. “Hermione. I’m here. You can go to sleep now.”

“Hmm?” The brunette yawned and sat up. “Kit? Oh, alright. Thank you…” 

Hermione’s departure was followed by several other students, who either didn’t mind seeing Kit there, or had not noticed her to begin with. 

By the time Kit was the only one left downstairs, the room was in semidarkness; the flames were the only source of light. Nearby, on a table, the Support Cedric Diggory! badges that Kit had seen the young Creevey brothers tampering with (for the sake of improvement) now unfortunately read POTTER REALLY STINKS. 

Kit grumbled to herself. She had to admit that Draco had been very brilliant to come up with the charms necessary to make the badges as they were and ensure they couldn’t be altered. On the other hand, she hated that he had done that— why couldn’t he be nice? Her mind wandered back to Cedric’s words. Draco fancying her? If he fancied her, wouldn’t it make sense for him to try harder? Unless Draco himself wasn’t fully aware of what he felt… no, Kit had to stop considering it, because now she was coming to terms with the fact that Draco had gotten considerably good looking in the past few years. 

No! Kit thought. Stop thinking that! He thinks you’re ugly, and he’s cruel to your friends and he can only be caring in private. You deserve someone better.

Yet, she couldn’t help but wonder….

However, a sound near the fireplace alerted Kit, and she soon saw the familiar face of Sirius Black. When she’d last seen him in a photograph in the Daily Prophet, his face had been gaunt and sunken, surrounded by a quantity of long, black, matted hair. But now, his hair was short and clean now, his face fuller, and he looked much younger.

“Hello,” she said, sitting up. “Harry will be here soon.” She hoped he wouldn’t leave. 

The man said nothing, and at first Kit thought that maybe she was hallucinating, but then his face broke out into a grin.

“Of course,” he whispered. “I know you— you’re Kit Thompson.”

Kit was confused. “Um, yes. I wasn’t sure if Harry told you in a letter that he might be late and I was going to let you know…?”

“No, he didn’t tell me. It’s just— you look so much like her. She was a few years younger than us, but she married that young Lestrange who was in our year. Pity, it was, she used to be our friend in secret! I remember she helped me escape a detention with Slughorn once!” 

Kit froze. “You mean—?”

“Yes,” Sirius said. “I knew your sister, Alana Thompson.”


	13. Chapter 13

**“You knew my sister,” Kit breathed slowly.**

It felt so bizarre. She’d never met one of Alana’s friends— ever. She’d never even met any of the Lestranges. She supposed Alana must have had friends, but for them to have been Harry’s godfather, father, Professor Lupin, and that rat she’d learned had betrayed them? That was out of the ordinary. 

“She wasn’t supposed to be our friend, mind you,” noted Sirius with a light chuckle. “But she hung around sometimes. She’d visit me, because she knew how cruel my mother was. Pretended she was playing with my brother Regulus. Really, Alana and Reg didn’t get along, but they had a mutual respect for each other, and Reg was kind enough not to snitch on her.” 

“Wow…. I had no idea,” Kit whispered. 

“She would have been one of the flower girls when Lily and James got married, but Alana had just found out that she and Rabastan had to get married, so she stopped coming around in secret. They’d always been friends, but Rabastan didn’t know she was our friend. If he found out, he might have hurt her, even when he loved her so much. Eventually, we heard they got married, and next thing… she was gone.”

Kit let out a shaky breath. “And you don’t know what happened to her? My parents— they don’t like talking about her. They only mention her when they want to compare me to her.”

Sirius frowned. “I get what you mean. My parents always compared me to my younger brother. He was a perfect little Slytherin. I was the Gryffindor prankster and playboy. I think I snogged your sister at one point. I forget.”

Kit turned red. “Um… really? That’s… wow.”

“Oh, sorry, is that not the culture around Hogwarts anymore? Back in my day, we were always having secret parties and snogging competitions. We were er— all very active before.”

“Er, if that’s the culture, I definitely don’t know it. I’ve never snogged anyone.”

“Well, from my understanding, neither has Harry! Don’t feel bad. Just know, you have every right to do whatever you please! If you want to learn by going around, do it! Be proud of who you are, even if your parents aren’t.”

“So… I should just snog people if it makes me happy?”

“Sure!” said Sirius enthusiastically. “Live a little! Don’t tie yourself down. That’s one piece of advice I’ll give you in relation to your sister. She was uptight for the most part, didn’t let herself free! At parties, she wouldn’t enjoy because she was nervous of what people would say. If she had been a little more rebellious, I’m sure she would have had a better time. Let your stress out.”

Kit wasn’t sure if snogging people was the way to go, but it reminded her of _The Stranger_ by Albert Camus, a book she’d read first in English then in French. She’d snuck it in from a Muggle library. In it, the character’s mother had a boyfriend in her retirement home. Kit supposed the greater meaning was to let loose an do what pleases you, even if you’re on death’s doorstep. Everyone inevitably died. 

“That’s actually good advice,” Kit murmured. She could apply this with Cedric… be bold and simply go for it. “What else do you remember about her?”

“Your sister was pretty popular, so there’s a lot. She convinced Lily to go on a date with James when we were in sixth year. She used to be really sweet— Remus told her he was a werewolf before he told any of us. She was just trustworthy and understanding. She was even nice to Wormtail, the slimeball. As for me, well, your sister and I related a lot to each other. Come to think of it, we _did_ snog, a few times at parties. And more, but I won’t go into that. We had something special, but she knew we likely wouldn’t be arranged to marry each other, and she ended it.”

“So you _could_ have been my brother in law,” Kit mused. “I think I’d prefer that to whoever Rabastan is.”

“Rabastan wasn’t _that_ bad of a guy,” Sirius said. “He and Snivellus were pals, and we went at it with them often. But he wasn’t a player like me, and he was a really good student. Realistically, Rabastan was better for her. He could be abrasive, so we did worry he might hurt her, but he never did. His older brother, on the other hand… well, Rodolphus was pure evil. That’s why he married my cousin Bellatrix. Their marriage was arranged but even in Hogwarts, they were an item. Before they even knew. Only sick people attract other sick people.” 

“Oh… I have heard of Bellatrix. I’m glad I didn’t meet her either.”

“She was terrible. She and Alana didn’t get along at all, from my understanding. Bellatrix thought Rabastan ought to have married another girl. But Alana and Rabastan had grown up together, so it wasn’t all that bad for them. Of course, they didn’t intend to marry to begin with, they were too close for that. But eventually… they were okay with it.”

Kit shivered. “That’s a weird parallel.”

“Who’s your childhood bestie?” asked Sirius in a teasing voice.

“Draco Malfoy,” grumbled Kit. “He’s really cruel though. I hate how he treats Hermione and others. He can be tolerable… lately he’s been pretty tolerable… but I would never want him.”

“That happens. You know how it is, the parents try and instill values and sometimes the kid grasps them. Alana didn’t, and I’m guessing neither did you. Rabastan and Malfoy, well, they listened.”

“I guess my parents really did get unlucky,” Kit said. “They didn’t know my sister was like me, but Slytherin.”

“That’s how my cousin Andromeda was. She was Slytherin, but a Hufflepuff at heart. Me? I’m similar to you. We didn’t end up in the House our parents wanted. You got luckier, Ravenclaw isn’t as bad. If you’d been Gryffindor…”

“I’d already be disowned,” confirmed Kit. “Somehow, I think they’re still trying to turn me like them.”

Sirius stopped for a moment, looking at Kit. Then he frowned. “They hurt you, don’t they?”

Kit faltered, and turned red. “Um—“

“It started small, right? They started being really rude by sending letters. You thought they’d get over it. Then suddenly they started being more violent, yelling more, smacking you around, they started picking at every little thing you did, they stopped giving you as much privacy and just sought out to bother you… they degrade you…”

Kit shifted uncomfortably. “Actually… it never started small. They got really violent the instant I got home.” She didn’t dare mention the use of the Imperius Curse. She’d been trying to push that to the back of her mind since it resurfaced after Moody’s lesson. 

“I’m really sorry about that, Kit,” Sirius said. “That’s unfair. I wish parents had changed by now.”

“I wish too…”

Luckily, they didn’t have to discuss the topic much longer. Harry burst in, looking out of breath. 

“Harry! What’s wrong?” Kit asked immediately as he scrambled down to the hearth. 

“Sirius,” Harry panted, ignoring Kit. “How’re you doing?”

“Never mind me, how are you?” said Sirius seriously. “Something is wrong.”

“I’m—“ He stopped, as if he had been about to say he was ‘fine’ but changed his mind. Soon, he was explaining how distraught he was at having been entered, how no one really believed that he hadn’t entered on his own free will, how Rita Skeeter had lied in the Daily Prophet, how everyone kept sneering at him, how Ron wasn’t speaking to him...

“... and now Hagrid’s just shown me what’s coming in the first task, and it’s dragons, Sirius, and I’m a goner,” he finished desperately.

Kit gulped, feeling like perhaps she shouldn’t have been there witnessing Harry exposing all his true feelings, but it seemed Harry hadn’t wanted her to leave. Sirius now looked more concerned than he had been before, and Kit wondered if that same haunted look in his eyes came from his time in Azkaban. 

“Dragons we can deal with, Harry,” began Sirius, “but we’ll get to that in a minute— I haven’t got long here... I’ve broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about.”

“What?” said Harry, looking even more worried. 

“Karkaroff,” said Sirius. “Harry, he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don’t you?”

“Yes— he— what?”

Kit abruptly developed a new interest in her shoes. She hadn’t been sure if she should tell anyone about what she knew of Karkaroff. 

“He was caught, he was in Azkaban with me, but he got released. I’d bet everything that’s why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year— to keep an eye on him. Moody caught Karkaroff. Put him into Azkaban in the first place.”

“Karkaroff got released?” Harry said slowly. “Why did they release him?”

Sirius was about to speak when Kit blurted out, “He got a deal with the Ministry of Magic. Because of my father.”

Sirius nodded slowly. “You know him, then?”

“I don’t know the details of it,” said Kit. “He just used to come around and would ask my father for help. But now that you mention him being in Azkaban… it makes sense. My father had gotten people deals before. Of course he did it for Karkaroff.”

“He said he’d seen the error of his ways, and then he named names,” confirmed Sirius. “He put a load of other people into Azkaban in his place... He’s not very popular in there, I can tell you. The only two he didn’t rat out, from my understanding, were Kenneth Thompson and Lucius Malfoy. They helped him most. And since he got out, from what I can tell, he’s been teaching the Dark Arts to every student who passes through that school of his. So watch out for the Durmstrang champion as well.”

“Okay,” said Harry slowly, looking between Kit and Sirius. “But... are you saying Karkaroff put my name in the goblet? Because if he did, he’s a really good actor. He seemed furious about it. He wanted to stop me from competing.”

“We know he’s a good actor,” said Sirius, “because he convinced the Ministry of Magic to set him free, didn’t he? Now, I’ve been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry...”

“—you and the rest of the world,” said Harry bitterly.

“—and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman’s article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm,” Sirius said hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, “but I don’t think so, somehow. I think someone tried to stop him from getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one’s going to look into it too closely; Mad-Eye’s heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn’t mean he can’t still spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had.”

“Are you suspecting Karkaroff?” asked Kit slowly. 

“And are you saying Karkaroff is trying to kill me?” said Harry. “But… why?”

Sirius hesitated. “I’ve been hearing some very strange things. The Death Eaters seem to be a bit more active than usual lately. They showed themselves at the Quidditch World Cup, didn’t they? Someone set off the Dark Mark…” He looked over at Kit, who gulped.

“Those were my parents and godparents, I’m sure,” she admitted. “I didn’t see them, but who else would it be? As for the Dark Mark… well, I saw Harry and the others in the woods, but I also saw this strange man who disappeared. I’d never seen him before, and I know a lot of people that were there because of my parents.”

Sirius nodded. “I think I want to look into that lead. Did either of you hear about that Ministry of Magic witch who’s gone missing?”

“Bertha Jorkins?” asked Kit. “I don’t really read the Daily Prophet but that did stick out.”

“Exactly... she disappeared in Albania, and that’s definitely where Voldemort was rumored to be last... and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament was coming up, wouldn’t she?”

“Yeah, but... it’s not very likely she’d have walked straight into Voldemort, is it?” said Harry.

“Listen, I knew Bertha Jorkins,” said Sirius grimly. “She was at Hogwarts when I was, a few years above your dad and me. And she was an idiot. Very nosy, but no brains, none at all. It’s not a good combination, Harry. I’d say she’d be very easy to lure into a trap.”

“So... so Voldemort could have found out about the tournament?” questioned Harry. “Is that what you mean? You think Karkaroff might be here on his orders?”

“I don’t know,” murmured Sirius slowly, “I just don’t know... Karkaroff doesn’t strike me as the type who’d go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him. But whoever put your name in that goblet did it for a reason, and I can’t help thinking the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it hook like an accident.”

“Looks like a really good plan from where I’m standing,” said Harry grinning bleaky. “They’ll just have to stand back and let the dragons do their stuff.”

“Right— these dragons,” said Sirius, speaking very quickly now. “There’s a way, Harry. Don’t be tempted to try a Stunning Spell— dragons are strong and too powerfully magical to be knocked out by a single Stunner, you need about half a dozen wizards at a time to overcome a dragon—”

“Yeah, I know, I just saw,” said Harry, making Kit squirm out of worry.

“But you can do it alone,” said Sirius. “There is away, and a simple spell’s all you need. Just—”

But Harry held up a hand to silence him. He could hear footsteps coming down the spiral staircase behind him.

“Go!” he hissed at Sirius. “Go! There’s someone coming!”

Harry scrambled to his feet, hiding the fire. “So, er, Kit, what do you think about that?” he said awkwardly.

Kit glared at him, and turned to watch the bottom of the spiral staircase. “It sounds bloody terrible,” she murmured, not knowing what else to say. Suddenly, a figure appeared. It was Ron. Dressed in his maroon paisley pajamas, Ron stopped dead facing Harry and Kit across the room, and looked around. 

“Who were you talking to?” he said.

“What’s that got to do with you?” Harry snarled. “What are you doing down here at this time of night?”

“I just wondered where you—” Ron broke off, shrugging. “Nothing. I’m going back to bed.”

“Just thought you’d come nosing around, did you?” Harry shouted. 

“Harry!” hissed Kit. “Stop that!”

“Sorry about that,” said Ron in response, his face reddening with anger. “Should’ve realized you didn’t want to be disturbed. I’ll let you get on with practicing for your next interview in peace. Unless you and Kit are fooling around.”

“No!” said Kit. “Ron, that’s not what was going on—”

But by then, Harry had seized one of the POTTER REALLY STINKS badges off the table and chucked it, as hard as he could, across the room. It hit Ron on the forehead and bounced off.

“There you go,” Harry said. “Something for you to wear on Tuesday. You might even have a scar now, if you’re lucky... That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Harry!” Kit smacked him as he brushed past her and strode toward the stairs, as if egging Ron to punch him. Ron, however, said nothing, and Harry disappeared.

Ron stopped for a moment, and came down to sit beside Kit. “It was Sirius, right?” asked Ron. “It sounded like him. I know he checks up on Harry.”

Kit didn’t confirm or deny it. She squirmed and leaned back. “Why did you get mad at him in the first place?” she asked gently. “You can talk to me about it.” 

Ron hesitated. “I wasn’t just jealous. I just… I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like… it’s always about him. And I know that’s what I signed up for when I became his friend… and I was okay with it, at first… but this, it just felt like maybe he didn’t care about me as much as I cared about him. I guessed I knew that he didn’t put his name in, since someone is always trying to hurt him. But to think he might have… I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

Kit put her hand on his shoulder. “It does, to me. I get it. It’s a complicated thing, yes, but I get it. Jealousy, a feeling of betrayal… Of course, both of you haven’t reacted rationally, but we’re fourteen, and we don’t know enough to react any better. Just… you should try and talk to him again. Be the bigger person.”

“I suppose so,” Ron mumbled. “I might as well. On Tuesday. Once he makes it past those dragons.”

Kit paused. “How do you know about that?”

Ron turned pink. “Oh, well, my brother Charlie is here with them. He works with dragons in Romania. I may have er, gotten Hagrid to show them to Harry.”

The Ravenclaw’s lips curled up into a smile. “You’re a good guy, Ron.”

“Yeah, well… it’s past one, you should probably head back to your Common Room.” 

Kit assented, and ruffled his hair before walking out, past the sleeping Fat Lady. She didn’t go back to Ravenclaw Tower immediately, rather took the long way and traipsed through the empty corridors, daring to hum lowly to herself.

“Rather late to be out, isn’t it?”

Kit nearly jumped out of her skin, thinking it was a Professor. But she turned around, and saw Draco leaning against a wall. “Worried it was Filch?” he drawled. “He’d have just grabbed you, and his cat would have hissed at you.”

“I’m just walking,” mumbled Kit. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“No, _of course_ nothing is wrong with walking… around Hogwarts at one in the morning when you’re already in trouble for a million other things at once.”

“What do you want, Malfoy?” said Kit scathingly, wanting him to leave her alone.

Draco’s lips visibly twitched. “For one, I don’t want anything from the likes of you. Secondly, well, I was definitely wondering if you’d just finished shagging Potter for good luck on his task. You know, one last fond memory before he dies. I saw you go into his Common Room. And last of all… don’t call me that.” 

Kit huffed. “Oh, you want me to be kind to you, and here you are insinuating rude things about my friend and I? You know what, I should make a habit of just addressing you as ‘Malfoy,’ if it makes you so mad. I don’t mind poking a dragon.”

Draco gritted his teeth. “Just shut up and walk, Thompson.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. I really am sick of you being such a prat then walking me to my Common Room as if we’re friends and as if you care.” Kit began to walk, and nearly screamed out of fury when she heard Draco following her.

“How is Granger?” Draco said gruffly. “Blaise won’t stop mentioning her. Keeps badgering me about it.”

“Why don’t you ask Blaise, then?” asked Kit with a cheeky smile. “Besides, if you really cared, you’d have stood up to Snape that day, and you never would have hurt her after everything you’ve already done to her. You’re such a dick, Malfoy, and to make matters worse, you don’t even have the balls to be civil in front of people.”

Draco’s eyes became fiery, and in an instant he lunged forward and seized Kit by the wrist, turning her around to face him. Even at fourteen, he towered over her, and for a brief second, Kit saw Lucius, not Draco, and she flinched, raising her other hand to cover her face.

To her surprise, Draco immediately let go, and stepped back. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to lash out. I wasn’t going to hit you.”

Kit just glared back. “What is it with you? Why the hell can you only be sort of nice in private? You’ve been publicly cruel to me, to my friends, but now all of the sudden, you want to be a good samaritan and protect me. Why don’t you do us a favor and just stop being a bastard? That’ll suffice.”

“I don’t need people judging me more than they do, Kit Kat,” Draco growled as Kit began to walk again. “Besides, I tried to be friends with Potter. He didn’t want to.”

“Because you insulted his new friend as you introduced yourself! I was there, I saw it! Besides, the instant he learned about who our parents were, he didn’t want to associate with me either! But third year, he saw that I wasn’t like you, who said vile things about his friends just because of their blood status! Of course I’m his friend and you aren’t! Maybe it hurts you, but that’s not a reason for you to continue to be rude when you can try and be kind! Everyone in this bloody school is afraid of you! No one likes partnering up with you because they’re afraid you’ll call out their insecurities. Just like you did to me.”

Draco faltered. “Kit… look, I didn’t mean to—”

_“Draco!” wailed Kit, having just sent her parents the letter explaining her House placement. “Draco, I’m scared, what are they going to say?”_

_Draco gazed at her as if she were dirt on the bottom of a boot. “How is that my problem?” he sneered. “Go away, you’re ruining the view.”_

_Kit was perplexed. They had just been good friends yesterday. And the day before that on her birthday. What had suddenly changed? “But Draco—”_

_“Shut up!” he hissed. “I don’t want to talk to you, can’t you get that? You’re not my friend anymore. You’re just an annoying, blood traitor Ravenclaw that’s stopping my friends and I from looking at the actual pretty girls. So, piss off!”_

“You meant every word of it,” Kit mumbled. “Maybe now you can feel guilty, but you meant every word you said. Merlin— I should have full on stopped talking to you when I had the chance. How can I ever believe that you give a shit now?”

“People will think I’ve gone soft,” he insisted. He seemed desperate for her to listen. “I… I want…” but he couldn’t even finish his sentence. “I’m sorry…”

Kit just shook her head. “Leave me alone, Malfoy,” she said venomously. “Until you can start being a decent person in the public eye, I’m not going to believe your little apologies.”

She walked ahead, hoping he wasn’t following. At one moment, she stopped at the Astronomy Tower, and simply sat nearest a balcony to gaze out.

Did Draco fancy her? It was making a bit more sense, considering how much he was imploring for her forgiveness all of the sudden. But Kit refused to accept it. Why would she, when he treated her and her peers so poorly? She had a toxic enough life with her parents around. She didn’t need a boyfriend who wouldn’t truly respect who she was.

Kit almost had to laugh. _Boyfriend_. Why had she even thought of that?

At one point or another, Kit fell asleep, having tired herself out from thinking too much. She had fully intended to spend the night on the balcony, not caring if she got caught.

Draco had other plans. He felt terribly about everything, but he simply didn’t understand how he was supposed to change himself. Something inside him kept stirring, kept feeling jealous at the idea of Kit even telling someone else why she chose her nickname, what she desired, and other intimate things that only he had known in the past. 

Even though he knew Blaise and Kit were only friends, he always envied Blaise. He didn’t know how to explain what he felt— the worry, the want. Had he permanently screwed up? Could he ever actually change and be what she deserved? He wanted to. He did. 

The thought of her with someone else… someone like Cedric… Blaise… or god forbid, Harry… it was consuming him with an anger that was begging him to become the person she deserved, the person who would love her unconditionally as her rambunctious, intelligent, altruistic, even temperamental self. 

But how could he become that person? How could he morph into who she deserved, all for the sake of her being with only him? He hardly comprehended what it meant to desire her, as more than a friend. Even at fourteen, he had not yet kissed anyone. All he knew was that if he did kiss anyone, it might only feel right if Kit’s lips were opposite his. 

His mind was raging with thoughts, wonders, dreams, scenarios he doubted could be manifested for him to win her affection. Long ago, he thought that they would eventually get married, because that felt right, it made sense. Now? She could hardly look at him without questioning everything, because that’s what he had done to her. He had become a replica of his father, and in turn, a replica of hers. He probably scared her. He had made her feel inadequate and had badgered her simply for trying to become the person she had always been meant to be behind the image of the Thompson name. A true friend would never have abandoned her. 

Their parents still expected them to speak, yet Draco had been embarrassed of the prospect of being seen with what the other Purebloods labeled as a blood traitor. He had thought his parents would be disappointed, yet it had been the opposite, but by then, Kit had a new group of friends and wanted nothing to do with him. What’s more, all his frustration had been taken out horribly on innocent people. He never should have called Hermione Granger that word. But how could he take it back now? How could he even begin to redeem himself from the pit he dug himself into?

As he found Kit asleep, slumped back against the wall, he gave out a soft sigh, and he felt his lips move into a gentle smile. She looked beautiful like that. He wanted to tell her, but he was afraid the damage he’d done to her was too severe for her to believe him. 

He leaned down, looping his arms under her, and grunted in effort to pick her up as smoothly as he could. He did his best to secure her head as he began to trudge toward the Ravenclaw Common Room. At the moment, all he knew for certain was that the prospect of Kit getting hurt by remaining out alone in the castle was something that unsettled him more than words could explain.

After a long path, he reached the eagle knocker.

“What gets broken without being held?”

Draco squirmed a bit as Kit mumbled sleepily in his arms. 

_“We’ll be friends forever, won’t we?” a four year old Kit had giggled to Draco after a mishap that ended with them both covered in mud and clovers._

_“Yep!” chirped Draco. “I promise!”_

“A promise,” spoke Draco softly. The door swung open, and the Slytherin quickly went in to deposit Kit gently on the nearest couch, before leaving, hoping no one saw him. 

_A bit of a longer chapter! Thoughts on Draco’s little section?_

_Comment for more :)_


	14. Chapter 14

**Just before the first task took place, it dawned on Kit that Su Li was being rather suspicious.**

Kit had spent the previous day teaching Harry the Summoning Charm alongside Hermione, and at one point, Su. Blaise had been busy making up assignments, and when Hermione refused to skive off Arithmancy, Kit had called in reinforcements. She and Su were more than happy to miss Arithmancy if it meant helping Harry, and as it turned out, Su was much better at teaching Charms.

She was patient, too. Kit and Hermione had grown frustrated with Harry’s attitude after awhile, and despite their continued efforts, it wasn’t the same when he kept snapping at them.

Su, however, was able to withstand it. Even when Harry snapped at her, she replied in the same gentle voice and gave tips. Su could be just as snappy as Harry or Kit on a bad day, but she could control it much better, and she seemed too pleased to be missing class and teaching simultaneously to allow Harry’s growls to do much more than egg her on to continue teaching.

But as they walked to where they’d be seated to watch the first task, Kit noticed Su kept shifting and looking around like she was trying to either look for someone, or not tell Kit something.

“Alright, spit it out,” huffed Kit. 

“Spit what out?” asked Su casually. As patient as she could be, she couldn’t hide how nervous she was.

“You’re hiding something! And while you’re entitled to not tell me, you should probably tell me if it’s making you fidget so much.”

Su shifted her balance and gazed awkwardly at Kit.

The thing was, Kit remembered falling asleep on the balcony, but she didn’t know Draco had carried her back. She had woken up and assumed she made it back at another hour.

Su, however, had been coming downstairs to check if Kit was there, and saw Draco bringing her in. When Kit hadn’t remembered, Su hadn’t been sure whether to tell her or not. The truth was, despite how much Su didn’t mind snapping at Draco, she was scared of him. He had that mean, brooding look like he was picturing everyone dead. What’s more, he didn’t like any of the Ravenclaws. Therefore, seeing him carrying Kit in had been confusing, and at first, Su had been terrified that Kit had been attacked and Draco was merely cleaning up the mess. But then, seeing Kit was just asleep, Su had simply deduced that Draco had been— and this thought worried her— _kind_ enough to bring her back.

Kit hadn’t told anyone else about Draco’s sudden burst of ‘kindness’ if she could call it that. Blaise only knew of when Draco offered his cookies for Kit, but aside from that, the secret was between them. 

Su finally couldn’t take it anymore. “I just— I want to know why Draco Malfoy carried you to our Common Room! And how he got in, in the first place!”

Kit’s cheeks went a fiery red, and she sat down slowly on the bench, her knees cracking. Everyone around them was discussing things excitedly, and no one seemed to have heard. 

“He carried me back,” she mumbled, furrowing her eyebrows. 

“You didn’t know?” Su asked worriedly.

“No, I thought I came back on my own. That means… he got past the door. And he… he carried me the entire way? That’s a long path to take…”

Su squirmed. “Did er— anything happen with you two that night?”

“We bickered, as usual.” Slowly, Kit leaned forward and began to whisper to Su about everything Draco had been doing— the walking her to her Common Room, the cookies, the incident with Cedric, even going as far back to the Quidditch World Cup, when he’d been acting very protective of her. 

Su shot her a knowing smile. “He fancies you, Kit. Granted… he doesn’t really know how to show any sort of positive emotion, does he? That boy does scare me… it’s like he’s so closed off he’s almost not human sometimes.”

Kit let out a small chuckle, feeling a blush rising in her cheeks. “He can be human. When we were kids… well, he taught me how to fly a broom, actually. He used to sneak around the house with me. We climbed onto the roof and he was making sure I didn’t fall, because I was wearing these ridiculous heels my mother put on me. He came up with the idea of our handshake… he used to always be there for me. Then everything changed, of course.”

“So what you’re saying is he _does_ have a heart, he’s just really tough on the outside now?”

“Basically. His reputation is everything to him. It’s sad, really. I miss being able to talk to him all the time. We really only bond because of Quidditch, and even that is rare.”

“Well, Kit, I do think he fancies you,” Su concluded. “He probably is just scared people will tease him when they find out.”

“The problem is, _I’m_ confused about it all! If he actually fancied me, I’d know for certain, wouldn’t I? But right now he’s just being a prick.” 

“Certainly complicates things with Cedric, doesn’t it?”

“A bit… see, I do like Cedric but I don’t think I fancy him.”

Before Su could continus, Ludo Bagman’s voice rang out.

“Welcome, all, to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament!” he boomed. “Today, our champions will have their turns facing one dragon each—“

A loud gasp rang out. “Dragons?” squeaked Su. “What—?”

“—with the task of collecting a golden egg and gathering up the most points to set their primary placements! The champions have only just found out about the task and which dragon they will be facing, so we should expect to see a fine display of magic, which will really set the start for the rest of the Tournament. Up first, we have Cedric Diggory, of Hogwarts, facing the Swedish Short-Snout.”

“Oh no!” gasped Kit, covering her face. Now she was worried. Cedric was going first? Where was Harry right now? 

A door across them opened, and a gigantic, blueish-gray dragon was led into the enclosure by several wizards, who quickly ran back and shut the door. The dragon approached a large rock where the golden egg was perched on. 

Kit instinctively gripped Su’s hand as Cedric stepped out of a small gap in the enclosure fence.

He stepped forward carefully, and the dragon sensed him immediately. Cedric slipped behind a rock as the dragon blew fire. It was a massive mountain of flame, concealing Cedric from view, which made the crowd yell all at once.

As soon as the fire died out, Cedric emerged, sprinting to duck behind another rock, but this time, it didn’t go so well.

The Short-Snout’s flames billowed around him, nearly engulfing him completely. “Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow!” cried Bagman.

Cedric moved again. Kit wasn’t sure what he was doing, but it didn’t matter— he was limping, as if dodging the flames had caused him to fall. The dragon turned, and another shot of flames managed to hit his arm, making Cedric let out a pained yell.

“No!” Kit screamed, covering her mouth. She could barely see Cedric behind the cloud of smoke, and she was gripping Su’s hand hard enough to make her lose circulation. 

When he emerged again, he yelled out a spell that Kit didn’t recognize, before quickly ducking behind a rock. 

Meanwhile, behind the dragon, another rock had transformed into a dog, which resembled a Labrador Retriever.

“Aha!” yelled Bagman. “He’s taking risks, this one!”

It seemed that it had worked. Kit watched, her heart racing, as Cedric continued to skirt through the rocks, every now and then waving his wand to keep the dragon focused on the dog. The dragon began to growl, as if annoyed with the dog, and for a second, Kit thought that Cedric would get the egg before more damage came to him. 

But soon after, the dragon seemed to decide that it would rather have him than the Labrador, and turned, blasting fire and making Cedric yell out another pained yell. “Clever move!” roared Bagman. “Pity it didn’t work!”

“It hit his arm again!” Su shrieked once Cedric’s figure became visible again.

Cedric, clutching his arm, dove forward, and began running with what must have been all his might. The dragon spewed fire again and again, but then, Cedric’s hands clasped around the golden egg, and Kit let out a scream of relief as the crowd roared their approval. 

“He did it!” Su screamed. “He did it!”

“Very good indeed!” Bagman was shouting. “And now the marks from the judges!”

Kit leaned over as Cedric limped in front of the judges. Ludo Bagman and Dumbledore each gave him a nine, Madame Maxime gave him an eight, and Karkaroff gave him a four.

“A FOUR?” Su yelled. “He did better than that!”

“He’s got thirty eight points,” Kit breathed. “That’s still good…”

“One down, three to go!” Bagman yelled as the whistle blew again. “Miss Delacour, if you please!”

Fleur came out against the Common Welsh Green. It went quicker than Cedric, and it seemed she was trying a bit more complicated magic. She hid quickly behind a rock and stuck her wand out, seemingly putting the dragon into a trance. It swayed, and began to step back, nearly stepping on a group of eggs that Kit had barely noticed were there. The dragon then slumped down, and seemingly went to sleep. 

“Oh I’m not sure that was wise!” Bagman called gleefully. Kit understood. Trances on beasts that big were very risky, and it might not last long enough, considering Fleur couldn’t have spent too long on it. She was moving slowly too, to not disturb it.

“Oh... nearly!” called Bagman as she neared the golden egg. “Careful now…”

Suddenly, the dragon snored, and a gigantic jet of flame shot out. Fleur quickly screamed, and Kit thought her legs had caught on fire, until she realized that only her skirt had, and it was now burned through. She shot a jet of water down to remove the burnt pieces, and seemed to pause behind a rock for a minute to gather her bearings.

“Good lord, I thought she’d had it then!” Bagman said, and the crowd seemed more eager to watch. 

Finally, however (and just as the dragon was waking up, too), Fleur reached the egg, and the crowd cheered once more. 

Bagman and Crouch had awarded her a seven, each, while Karkaroff had given her a six (which Kit thought was what Cedric had deserved too). Dumbledore had given her an eight, while Madame Maxime had of course, granted her a nine.

“Thirty seven points!” Kit shrieked. “She’s right behind Cedric! They probably took points off because the dragon almost hit the eggs, and because her skirt got so burnt.”

“And here comes Mr. Krum!” cried Bagman, and soon, the Common Welsh Green and Fleur Delacour were replaced by the Chinese Fireball and Viktor Krum.

“Oh, I can’t look!” cried Su as Viktor stepped in. Almost immediately, the dragon reared back and shot flames even larger than the last two dragons, hence its name. 

It seemed, however, that Viktor had had a solidified plan in place. He leapt out from behind the rock, and fired a spell right in the Fireball’s eye. The dragon let out a mighty roar and began to trample around in agony, bringing a gigantic foot down on half of the pile of real eggs. 

“Very daring!” Bagman was yelling.“That’s some nerve he’s showing!”

“He wasn’t supposed to let the eggs get damaged,” Su moaned, having peeked up briefly. “Please— tell me he hasn’t been burned!”

“Nope!” Kit cried as Viktor leapt forward and seized the golden egg. “He’s been the fastest yet!”

The crowd roared (as did Bagman, very excitedly). Krum hadn’t even been burned. 

“I think he used a Conjunctivitis Curse,” mused Kit as Su looked up for the marks. Karkaroff gave him a ten (unfair, but so surprise there), Bagman had given him a nine, Crouch eight, Dumbledore seven, and Maxime six.

“They didn’t go as generous and he’s still in first place!” gasped Su. “Forty points!”

“Harry’s next!” cried Kit, now at the edge of her seat. “Oh… I hope his Summoning Charm works…” 

The final dragon was brought in— the Hungarian Horntail. At the other end of the enclosure, Harry emerged, looking both confused and terrified. The Horntail was crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon him, a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, heaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground. 

The crowd began to cheer, and Kit wished they could shut up as Harry raised his wand. 

“Accio Firebolt!” he shouted.

For a few terrifying moments, Kit thought it hadn’t worked, but then, his Firebolt came hurtling toward him around the edge of the woods. She cried out as it stopped in midair beside him, waiting for him to mount. 

“DID YOU SEE THAT?” Bagman roared. “BRILLIANT! ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT!” 

The rest of the crowd was loving it. Harry kicked off, soaring high up, and thus began the dreadful dance that had Kit squirming. He dove down, and around, and the Horntail’s head followed him, shooting fire everywhere in an attempt to burn him to a crisp, but Harry was dodging as if evading a very large, dangerous Bludger, and he looked almost like a professional Quidditch player. 

“Great Scott, he can fly!” yelled Bagman as the crowd shrieked and gasped. “Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?”

Harry soared higher in a circle, the Horntail still following his progress, its head revolving on its long neck. He plummeted just as the Horntail opened its mouth, but this time he was less lucky— he missed the flames, but the tail came whipping up to meet him instead, and as he swerved to the left, one of the long spikes grazed his shoulder, ripping his robes— 

“HARRY!” Kit screamed. Someone else had screamed too, and she could have bet it was Hermione, somewhere on the other end. 

Harry zoomed around the back of the Horntail. He began to fly, first this way, then the other, making the Horntail’s head swayed this way and that. He flew higher. The Horntail’s head rose with him, her neck now stretched to its fullest extent, still swaying, like a snake before its charmer... Harry rose a few more feet, and the dragon let out a roar of exasperation. The Horntail shot fire into the air, which he dodged, and as she reared, spreading her great, black, leathery wings, Harry dived. 

Kit screamed again, covering her mouth, because before the dragon even knew what he had done, or where he had disappeared to, he was speeding toward the ground and had suddenly seized the golden egg.

“HE DID IT!” Kit yelled. “HE DID IT! HE GOT THE EGG! HE GOT THE EGG!”

“Look at that!” Bagman was yelling. “Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!”

It seemed this time, they led Harry away to get his arm looked at before the scores came out. Kit and Su had a brief moment of squealing and hugging before scrambling up and beginning to make their way down. By the time they’d nearly arrived, Harry had now joined Hermione, and to Kit’s relief, Ron. 

“The scores!” cried Su, and the girls lurched to a halt.

Harry had received an eight from Madame Maxime, a nine from both Crouch and Dumbledore, a ten from Bagman, and a four from Karkaroff.

“Karkaroff really hates Hogwarts, doesn’t he?” Su huffed.

“Harry just tied for first place with Krum!” Kit squealed, yanking Su back down to where Hermione and Ron waited. Harry had just been taken away with the other champions. 

“He did it!” Hermione said, immediate running to tackle Kit into a hug. “He did it! He did it!”

Kit giggled and pulled away. “I know! That— that was amazing!”

“After party in the Gryffindor Common Room this evening,” said Ron. “You’re both invited!”

“Really?” Su looked flattered. “Of course I’ll come!”

“Who’s organizing it?” asked Kit.

“Fred and George, of course. I’ll wait here for Harry, you all should help set up.”

Kit smiled knowingly. Ron wanted his chance to bond with Harry again. Hermione, albeit worried, left with the other Gryffindors, and Su bade Kit farewell, probably not to help, but to get ready for her first Gryffindor party. 

“I’ll wait here for Harry and Cedric,” Kit chirped beside Ron.

He grinned at her. “It went well. We’re friends again.” 

“Good! Perfect timing, too.”

When the champions came back out, Ron and Kit moved forward to Harry. 

“Harry! You did amazing!” said Kit as she hugged him. 

“Thanks,” he said, smirking proudly, the golden egg tucked under his arm.

Kit was then very abruptly shoved aside. 

“Congratulations, Harry!” cried Rita Skeeter, beaming at him and getting right in his face. “I wonder if you could give me a quick word? How you felt facing that dragon? How you feel now, about the fairness of the scoring?”

Harry’s annoyance with her seemed to come back, and he glared at the woman. “Yeah, you can have a word,” he said savagely. “Good-bye.”

And he set off back to the castle with Ron.

Soon after, Cedric came out, and the first person he ran to was Kit.

“Hi!” said Kit. 

However, she hadn’t expected him to pick her up and spin her around.

“Hey,” said Cedric breathlessly, a giddy smile on his face. 

“You did really good!” she said. “Karkaroff really should have raised his score for you, but alas…”

“Ah, I’m okay for now, I sort of deserved it for not being efficient enough with the Transfiguration.”

“Are you kidding? That was the most impressive piece of magic I’ve seen! You managed to keep the dog entertaining the dragon even when you were running!” 

Cedric blushed. “Well, perhaps I could have done better. Could you excuse me a moment? My parents are here.”

“Of course! I’ll wait.”

Cedric ruffled her hair and trotted off.

“Hey.” Kit turned and saw Blaise, smirking at her. “Pretty impressive display, hmm?”

“Yes, it was amazing!” sighed Kit, flopping back onto him and making him catch her.

“Maybe we should put you up against a dragon,” Blaise chuckled.

“Oh, certainly not. I’d forget the objective and try to play with it.”

“Sure. I’m fairly sure that you’d managed to stay focused, you know.”

“How about we go wrestle the dragons then, and we’ll see?” 

Blaise held his hands up in surrender. “I don’t want to go close to them. I’ve had enough with those Blast-Ended Skrewts, and they’re my size. Those dragons are the size of my mum’s mansion.”

“Hmm, we’ll see,” said Kit with a wink.

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Don’t get any ideas, dummy.” He poked her side. “Hey, I’ll see you around, okay? Hermione wanted to talk about something in the library.” 

Kit smirked, eyeing the S.P.E.W. badge tucked neatly on Blaise’s robes. “Alright. Have fun.”

“You too, with your boy,” he said, winking. “Just not too much fun.”

“Blaise!”

He grinned and left, and soon Kit was rejoined by an out of breath Cedric.

“You alright?” she asked.

“Yes,” he stated. “I just didn’t want you to wait too long.”

“That’s sweet of you,” she said. “Are you sure you weren’t just hurrying to play with the dragons for a bit?” 

Cedric shrugged. “Maybe. I actually really liked the task. Gave me a better adrenaline rush than Quidditch.”

Kit gave him a weird sort of smile. “I’m guessing you’re a thrill seeker who likes near death experiences?”

“Something like that.” 

Kit nudged him, and the pair began to walk back to the castle. “I was wondering,” Cedric began, “since I’ve seen Hannah Abbott let you in before… would you be interested in coming to a little party that my friends are throwing me? I understand if you can’t; I expect Harry’s getting a party too.”

“Well, what time is yours?”

“Right now, actually,” he chuckled. “We don’t run that late, we like to go to sleep early regardless if there’s a party or not, because we have lessons.”

“Harry’s is in the evening, so I’ll join you!”

Cedric seemed ecstatic as he took Kit’s hand and led her to the Hufflepuff Common Room.


	15. Chapter 15

**The Hufflepuffs were more wild when it came to parties, which left Kit close to traumatized.**

First, she had walked in and there was more food than she had expected, probably because they were beside the kitchens. Hannah Abbott had happily squealed and hugged Kit, looking curiously at Cedric before rejoining Susan Bones, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Zacharias Smith. 

Secondly, Kit’s ears had practically been assaulted with how loud it was. She thought Gryffindor was loud, but this was a whole new level of cheering and screaming and Merlin knows what else.

Third, they were _bold_. Now, Kit had seen the Weasley twins say things so bluntly that she found it admirable, but this was insane. Right away, about five different Hufflepuff boys had swarmed her to dance, but Cedric had kindly let them know that she was there with him, which Kit supposed was a good sign.

“This was not what I was expecting,” she mused as Cedric brought them both some Butterbeer. 

Cedric chuckled. “We have to let our energy out in bigger bursts because we can’t stay up so late. I’m sure you’ll notice a difference later, with the Gryffindors.”

However, Kit hardly remembered to try and notice it after awhile. After several of the sixth and seventh years had given speeches about how amazing Cedric had been (albeit drunk, though very sincere and true), the party had gone up a few notches, and soon, Kit was surrounded by people jumping and moving to music that was loud enough for the entire castle to hear.

“Dance with me!” cried Hannah as she and Susan migrated to where Kit and Cedric had been playing a game of extreme darts where one person stood in front of the target, and the other had to try and win without killing the other. 

Kit whined, having been just about to take her turn. But Hannah had yanked her arm, and without thinking, Kit had dragged Cedric with her.

“Sorry!” said Kit apologetically (and loudly, to be heard over the music) to Cedric. “My first instinct was to grab you!”

“It’s alright, I certainly don’t mind!” He grinned and followed Kit and the other girls nearer the middle.

Needless to say, Kit was bloody exhausted from the dancing and the games. Hufflepuffs sure knew how to party. Hannah and Susan had dragged Kit (and Cedric, by association) to every single game that was set up. Kit had taken her first shot of firewhiskey right in front of the hearth. Cedric was surprised it was her first time, but Kit had kindly explained to every listening Hufflepuff that her parents didn’t own liquor, and in turn, she disliked the smell whenever she was near it. Hannah had simply giggled and pulled Kit to play darts.

“Cedric’s never had a formal date to a party of ours!” she squealed, handing Kit her darts.

“Really? I find that a little difficult to believe.”

Hannah’s eyes bulged. “I’m serious, Kit! He looks so happy with you. He wanted to share the joy of his success with you.”

Kit had blushed, and the conversation ceased immediately when Cedric caught up to them.

By the time Kit stumbled out, she wanted to fall asleep, right there on the floor. Her feet ached and she was full of Butterbeer. 

“I’ll walk you to the Gryffindor party,” said Cedric, having stepped out with her. “Unless you think you should sleep.”

“M’fine,” she said, leaning onto him, her legs aching as well. “I’ve had worse workouts for Quidditch.”

Cedric raised an eyebrow. “Are you comparing my celebration with Quidditch practice?”

“Oh, Merlin, no! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“I’m not mad, Kit,” he chuckled. “It’s just an interesting way to put it.”

“I’m going to be sore for _months_ after this.” 

“Let’s hope not! I’d like for you to come to more parties.”

“I definitely will,” she affirmed, sliding her hand down to hold his. She wasn’t sure what possessed her to make a move. Perhaps, the bold energy of the Hufflepuffs had been transferred into her. 

Cedric had tensed beside her, and Kit instantly wondered if she’d made a wrong move. But he didn’t withdraw his hand. Kit wondered if he was alright with it, or was too nice to say he didn’t want to do that. Rather than ask, she withdrew her hand and stood straight. 

As she gazed at Cedric through her peripheral vision, she couldn’t help but notice how tinted pink his cheeks were. Perhaps he hadn’t meant for her to want to remove her hand? However, since he didn’t voice anything, she thought it best to leave the subject at that. The last thing she wanted to do was overstep a boundary. 

Once they arrived at the Gryffindor Common Room, Kit saw that Hermione was just on her way out. “Where are you all headed?” asked Kit, seeing that behind her appeared Harry and Ron.

“Oh, the Owlery!” chirped Hermione, eyeing Cedric.

Kit quickly turned to him. “Thank you so very much for tonight, it was a blast. And thank you for walking me here.”

“Of course, anytime,” said Cedric, taking her hand and kissing it. Kit could have sworn she heard Hermione squeak behind her. Without another word, Cedric walked away, and a very flustered Kit turned around to see Hermione beaming at her, while Harry and Ron looked completely disinterested.

“That was so cute!” Hermione squealed, taking Kit’s arm and leading her toward the Owlery. “Did you two kiss?”

Kit giggled. “No, not yet. I don’t know if we will. He got a bit tense when I held his hand, and when I let go, he never said anything.”

“I’m sure he was just at a loss for words!”

“Can we talk about what we’re doing?” asked Harry, which made Ron let out a chuckle of agreement.

Kit turned around and narrowed her eyes, before sticking her tongue out. “What’s the business?”

“We’re going to find Ron’s owl Pigwidgeon,” said Harry. “To owl Sirius about the first task.”

Kit’s eyes shone in excitement at the prospect of seeing the adorable, teeny owl. “Good idea. Pigwidgeon is the best.”

“He’s an annoying little git,” said Ron, shrugging. 

As they walked, Harry began to fill Ron in on everything Sirius had told him and Kit about Karkaroff. Kit was thankful that Harry omitted the part about Kit’s father granting a deal for Karkaroff. She’d tell Ron, of course, eventually, but she wanted to be the one to do it. 

Though shocked at first, Ron soon deduced that they should have guessed Karkaroff was a Death Eater since long ago.

“Malfoy mentioned his dad being friends with Karkaroff,” noted Ron. “It fits. Now we know where they knew each other. They were probably running around in masks together at the World Cup. I’ll tell you one thing, though, Harry, if it was Karkaroff who put your name in the goblet, he’s going to be feeling really stupid now, isn’t he? Didn’t work, did it? You only got a scratch! Come here— I’ll do it—“

Pigwidgeon was so overexcited at the idea of a delivery he was flying around and around Harry’s head, hooting incessantly. Ron snatched Pigwidgeon out of the air and held him still while Harry attached the letter to his leg. 

“There’s no way any of the other tasks are going to be that dangerous, how could they be?” Ron went on as he carried Pigwidgeon to the window. “You know what? I reckon you could win this tournament, Harry, I’m serious.”

Harry gave Kit a look, as if he thought that Ron was only saying this to make up for his behavior the last few weeks. Hermione leaned against the Owlery wall, folded her arms, and frowned at Ron.

“Harry’s got a long way to go before he finishes this tournament,” she said seriously. “If that was the first task, I hate to think what’s coming next.”

“Right little ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” said Ron. “You and Professor Trelawney should get together sometime.”

Kit giggled, but her expression immediately turned dark when Ron threw Pigwidgeon out the window.

“Ronald Weasley!” she cried. “What the—” she careened her body over to see whether Pigwidgeon was still alive. The little owl had plummeted about twelve feet before managing to pull himself back up again. 

Kit gave Ron a sour look. “He could have died! Harry— did you put rocks in that letter?! Why is Pigwidgeon so weighed down by it?”

Harry gave her a sheepish look. “Er, I may have gone a little overboard giving Sirius blow-by-blow account of exactly how I defeated the Horntail.”

Kit sighed dejectedly, nudging Ron hard in the ribs before leaning out to watch Pigwidgeon disappear into the darkness.

“Well, we’d better get downstairs for your surprise party, Harry,” suggested Ron, rubbing his side and moving away from Kit. “Fred and George should have nicked enough food from the kitchens by now.”

Sure enough, as soon as the four went in through the portrait hole, the room exploded with cheers and yells again. There were mountains of cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface; Lee Jordan had let off some Filibuster’s Fireworks, so that the air was thick with stars and sparks; and Dean Thomas, who was very good at drawing, had put up some impressive new banners, most of which depicted Harry zooming around the Horntail’s head on his Firebolt, though a couple showed Cedric with his head on fire.

Kit wasn’t too pleased with the portrayal of Cedric, but George and Fred had quickly dragged her to the food table, and then the dance floor, and Kit soon brushed off their injustice to Cedric and began to have a good time. 

“Blimey, this is heavy,” said Lee Jordan while Kit was dancing nearby him with Lavender and Parvati (who was much more social than her sister Padma). Lee had picked up the golden egg, which Harry had left on the table, and was weighing it in his hands. “Open it, Harry, go on! Let’s just see what’s inside it!”

“He’s supposed to work out the clue on his own,” Hermione said swiftly, which made Kit roll her eyes and step out from in between Lavender and Parvati. “It’s in the tournament rules...”

Kit saw Harry mutter something to Hermione that made her turn pink. The Ravenclaw moved to their side as the Gryffindors chanted for him to open the egg. Lee passed Harry the egg, and the boy opened it.

Later, Kit would hear the sound in her weirdest nightmares. 

The egg itself was hollow and completely empty— but the moment Harry opened it, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing, filled the room. 

“Shut it!” Fred bellowed, his hands over his ears.

“What was that?” said Seamus Finnigan. “Sounded like a banshee... Maybe you’ve got to get past one of those next, Harry!”

“It was someone being tortured!” said Neville, who had gone very white and spilled sausage rolls all over the floor. “You’re going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!”

Kit looked over at him, and frowned. She had thought it sounded like someone being tortured as well. She thought back to how both she and Neville had grown highly uncomfortable in Moody’s first lesson when he had demonstrated the Cruciatus Curse. Had Neville also witnessed someone being tortured?

“Don’t be a prat, Neville, that’s illegal,” said George in response to the boy’s comment. “They wouldn’t use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing... maybe you’ve got to attack him while he’s in the shower. Harry.”

Kit let out a small, awkward laugh. She vaguely remembered Percy Weasley since he’d dated Penelope Clearwater. However, she couldn’t get the terrible noise out of her head. 

“Want a jam tart, Hermione, Kit?” said Fred, coming by to offer them a plate.

Kit was about to take one, when Hermione pushed her hand back, as if suspicious of whether the jam tarts were actually safe. It was then that Kit recalled that the Weasley twins were indeed prankster kings, and nothing they gave out was ever truly safe.

“It’s all right,” Fred said. “I haven’t done anything to them. It’s the custard creams you’ve got to watch—”

Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spat it out. Fred laughed. “Just my little joke, Neville...”

Hermione took a jam tart, and Kit mimicked her. “Did you get all this from the kitchens, Fred?” the Gryffindor brunette inquired.

“Yep,” answered Fred, grinning at her. He put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a house-elf. “‘Anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!’ They’re dead helpful... get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish.”

“How do you get in there?” Hermione said in an innocently casual sort of voice. Kit was about to tell Fred not to answer, since Hermione really must have had a sinister sort of plot to advance spew, or whatever it was, but—

“Easy,” replied Fred, “concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and -” He stopped and looked suspiciously at her. “Why?”

“Nothing,” said Hermione quickly.

“Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike now, are you?” said George suspiciously as he came over. “Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?”

“Don’t you go upsetting them and telling them they’ve got to take clothes and salaries!” said Fred warningly. “You’ll put them off their cooking!”

Just then, Neville caused a slight diversion by turning into a large canary, which Kit found quite convenient for Hermione’s sake. 

“Oh— sorry, Neville!” Fred shouted over all the laughter. “I forgot— it was the custard creams we hexed—”

Within a minute, however, Neville had molted, and once his feathers had fallen off, he reappeared looking entirely normal. He even joined in laughing. “Canary Creams!” Fred shouted to the excitable crowd. “George and I invented them— seven Sickles each, a bargain!”

Kit laughed, but quickly stopped when she noticed Hermione had slipped away to avoid an interrogation.

It was nearly one in the morning when Harry had left with the boys, and Kit made her way out of the Gryffindor Common Room holding a plate with a slice of cake. She was dead tired, but she forced her feet to carry her to the Ravenclaw Common Room.

Along the way, she had almost expected Draco to appear out of the shadows and walk her to her dormitory. She had grown accustomed to it, and in fact, quite nearly felt saddened at the fact he wasn’t there. However, she quickly shook that thought away. Draco was still an arse.

And yet… she couldn’t stop thinking that he cared enough to walk her safely. She smiled to herself, but masked it by taking a bite of the cake in case anyone was watching. With Hogwarts, one could never know.

**_**

As December rolled around, Kit found herself happier than she had been in awhile.

She and Cedric were spending time together more often now. While Kit was still not studying as she should be, she found that being around Cedric motivated her to do schoolwork, as he was studious and didn’t tend to speak, rather, he simply enjoyed Kit’s presence. At times they would walk around Hogwarts, chatting amidst the loud wind and sleet falling that came with winter. The castle was as drafty as always, and Kit found that Cedric sometimes walked closer to her to be a bit warmer. However, they hadn’t progressed further than that. 

Kit was enjoying her classes, as well, which was something she had never expected. She and Su had tried to pay more attention in charms (since Kit had threatened to stop taking notes for her friend if all she did was make eyes at other boys). Kit had even started listening more to Hermione during Potions, and Kit found she was growing to actually love the subject, even if it meant putting up with Snape.

As much as Kit loved working with creatures, Care of Magical Creatures was the only class that she was beginning to dread. Hagrid was keeping Madame Maxime’s horses well provided with their preferred drink of single-malt whiskey; the fumes wafting from the trough in the comer of their paddock was enough to make the entire Careof Magical Creatures class light-headed on a daily basis. This was unhelpful, as they were still tending the horrible skrewts and needed their wits about them.

“I’m not sure whether they hibernate or not,” Hagrid told the shivering class in the windy pumpkin patch next lesson. “Thought we’d jus’ try an see if they fancied a kip... we’ll jus’ settle ‘em down in these boxes...”

There were now only ten skrewts left; apparently their desire to kill one another had not been exercised out of them. Each of them was now approaching six feet in length. Their thick gray armor; their powerful, scuttling legs; their fire-blasting ends; their stings and their suckers, combined to make the skrewts the most repulsive things Kit had ever seen, though she had to admit that they could be cute on a good day.

“We’ll jus’ lead ‘em in here,” Hagrid said, “an’ put the lids on, and we’ll see what happens.”

It seemed, however, that trying to make the skrewts go into hibernation was a mistake. They, in fact, did not hibernate. Hagrid was soon yelling, “Don panic, now, don’ panic!” while the skrewts rampaged around the pumpkin patch, now strewn with the smoldering wreckage of the boxes. Most of the class— Draco and his goons in the lead— had fled into Hagrid’s cabin through the back door and barricaded themselves in.

Kit had let out a sign when she realized that it was up to her, Harry, Ron, and Hermione to help Hagrid, as they had been the only ones who remained outside. 

“Shit,” murmured Kit under her breath as she slowly approached one of the skrewts, who kept arching its sting and quivering. The others were using their wands to shoot jets of fiery sparks at the other skrewts, but Kit didn’t want to be so mean.

Apparently, it was a mistake to try and ‘gently’ grab it.

“OW!” Kit let out a loud cry and leapt back as she was burned, and nearly stung. She scrambled to her feet to get away from the skrewt, looking down as a large purplish red mark spread across her forearm.

“Kit!” Hermione ran to her, and Kit gulped, her eyes watering. “This is bad,” whispered Hermione, turning around wildly to where Blaise stood near the cabin, trying to help Seamus Finnigan, who had several nasty burns on his fingers. “Blaise! Blaise, please— she needs to go to the Hospital Wing.”

Blaise almost immediately bounded forward. Kit wasn’t sure if it was because he was Kit’s best friend and he cared a lot about her, or whether it was because Hermione was the person who’d asked. It didn’t matter. One look at the burn, and Blaise had nearly thrown up. He took Kit’s other hand and led her away quickly.

Kit, meanwhile, was starting to feel sick herself. She stared at the burn, and it seemed to pulsate, as if her hand had a heartbeat. “I’m reevaluating,” she said, though her words sounded almost slurred. “Maybe I don’t like Care of Magical Creatures as much as I used to… no offense to Hagrid.”

“Just hang on,” said Blaise, growing increasingly concerned. The burn was still spreading, and Kit could hardly register the pain anymore. 

When they arrived to the Hospital Wing, Blaise pulled Kit to an empty bed and practically dragged Madam Pomfrey over. The older woman was not too pleased, but all was forgotten when she saw how Kit slumped back, moaning out of the discomfort.

“Those skrewts will be the death of me,” said Madam Pomfrey crossly. “How many burns I’ve had to treat since they came, I can’t keep count…”

Kit let out a drunken-sounding giggle. “They’ll be the death of you? They’ll be the death of me. Wooo…”

Soon enough, Kit had been knocked out from all the pain hitting her at once. She dreamed that she was riding a magic carpet, and that Cornelius Fudge had put her on trial because it was illegal. She had claimed she had no idea, and had been sent straight to Azkaban.

Meanwhile, Blaise had been beside her, waiting for her to wake up. He had felt a hand on his shoulder, stiffened, then turned around, only to see Draco standing there.

“Is she alright?” the blond asked, going to the other side of Kit to examine the burn, which had the thick orange paste known as Burn-Healing Paste lathered all over it. “Bloody Merlin, this burn is terrible— I’m going to owl her father.”

“Are you insane?” Blaise snapped. “You don’t get to owl her parents unless she tells you. You’ll create unnecessary trouble. They don’t exactly treat her well.”

Draco, who knew that fact better than anyone, decided not to argue. Sometimes, he didn’t necessarily grasp how terrible her parents could be. He turned to gaze at Kit’s face, which was flushed. “Did Madam Pomfrey say if she’ll be okay?”

“Yes, she’ll be fine. She might have a mark, and she’ll be in some pain when she wakes, but she’ll survive it. Whole lot of help you were, running into Hagrid’s cabin.”

Draco didn’t seem to appreciate this. “I have every right to be downright terrified of any creature that can hurt me this bad. You don’t get to blame her getting hurt on me.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow. “I never said I was blaming you. I was just saying.”

Draco huffed. “I know I should have helped. Don’t mention it. Don’t even think it.”

Blaise stared at Draco almost in a different light. Draco Lucius Malfoy was admitting he had acted inappropriately for a certain situation? That was a first. 

The blond shifted awkwardly. “Well, er, I’m glad she’s alright. I’ll see you around, Zabini.” Without another word, the boy stalked away.

It wasn’t until hours later that Kit finally woke up, and Blaise sighed in relief. “You’re alright.”

“I am,” she responded groggily, sitting up and hissing in pain as she moved her arm. “Did anyone else come in severely maimed or was I the only one?”

“Seamus came in, and so did Ron. Their burns weren’t as bad as yours, though.”

“Mm.” Kit turned on her side to face Blaise. “What else has happened?”

“Er, when Ron came in, Hermione told me to tell you that that annoying Rita Skeeter stopped by to coax Hagrid into an interview, and she succeeded. And um, Draco came to visit you.”

Kit felt her body tense. “Draco… visited? Seriously?”

“He wanted to make sure you were okay. It was kind of nice. A little strange…”

Kit bit her lip. “Yeah, strange…”

She wasn’t sure why she felt so excited about that.

_Comment for more :)_


	16. Chapter 16

**“Miss Thompson, is there anything you’d like to share with the class?”**

Kit had quite nearly jumped out of her skin. She had been whispering to Su about Draco (who she for some reason couldn’t stop thinking about). Flitwick gave her a somewhat reproachful look and turned his attention back to the congregated Ravenclaws.

“No, Professor,” said Kit rapidly. 

“As I was saying,” squeaked Flitwick, “we have a nice surprise coming up. The Yule Ball. It is a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. While only fourth years and above are able to attend, a younger guest of an older student can be permitted. You are to wear dress robes. I suggest going all out, it will be worth it! It’s set to be an incredibly fun night. The ball will start at eight o’clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall.”

He glanced around, then became stern. “I expect you all to be on your best behavior. We have guests, and I do not want Ravenclaw’s reputation tarnished. If we want to enjoy it, we’ll need to act accordingly. Do I make myself clear?”

The Ravenclaws nodded. The bell rang, and the students hurried out, chattering excitedly at the prospect of a ball.

“Yule Ball!” said Su dreamily, swaying and purposely bumping into Kit. “I want Anthony to ask me!”

“What? But you were getting friendly with Kevin Entwhistle… or whatever.”

“Oh, no, I was merely trying to make Anthony jealous.”

Kit raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t think that to be a wise path, but whatever floats your bubble. Why don’t you ask him? You know, before everyone rushes to it.”

Su flushed. “Well, I want him to ask me. It’d mean more.”

“But then how do you expect him to know? You don’t talk to him _enough_.” 

The raven-haired girl let out a small huff. “This is too complicated! Why can’t he just know?”

“How about this,” suggested Kit, “you start talking to him more and maybe ask who he’s planning to take to the ball. If he’s interested in someone else, he’ll likely insinuate that. If he isn’t sure, just suggest that perhaps you both could go as ‘friends.’ If he says yes, you’re in!”

Su rolled her eyes. “But—“

“Come on, Su! This is your chance!”

“Fine. But if that’s the case, you have to ask Cedric.”

Kit turned red. “Well, I actually wasn’t sure about going with Cedric.”

Su looked like she’d witnessed an exorcism. The shock in her expression was almost confusing to Kit. “What do you mean?” cried Su. “You two have been hitting it off so well! Who else would he ask? Who else would you ask? What— oh, Merlin, this is a lot to process…”

“Oh, calm down, it’s not like the end of the world,” sighed Kit. “I’m just not sure if I even want to go with anyone. Why commit myself? I’d feel bad if I had a date and someone else asked me to dance. Besides, there would be a lot of attention on me if I was Cedric’s date.”

“Ah…” Su was one of few who truly understood that Kit actually despised being the center of attention. It was too much for her to handle. “Well, talk to Cedric about it.”

“That’ll be weird. What if he wasn’t even planning to ask me, and I bring it up?”

“Like I insinuated before, there isn’t anyone else he’d think to ask. Talk to him.”

Kit sighed in defeat as she and Su parted ways to continue on to their different classes. As Kit walked, she considered it. Su was right, Cedric wouldn’t be likely to ask anyone else over Kit. They were considered an unofficial item by Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws alike. 

When Kit arrived to Potions, she found Hermione alone, as Harry and Ron had not yet arrived.

“Did you just hear as well?” inquired Hermione immediately. “About the Yule Ball?”

“Yes,” Kit responded. “I’m conflicted. I don’t want to be asked, but I also do want Cedric to ask me.”

Hermione, it seemed, was having a similar dilemma. “I partially understand. I want either Ron or Harry to ask me, so I can go with a close friend, but I also wouldn’t mind going alone.”

“Exactly!” agreed Kit. “Everyone is so intent on getting dates but I’m thinking, if I get lucky enough for others to ask me to dance, then I’d feel so guilty abandoning my date to accept. I would feel bad to decline someone who asked. I admire when people are more bold. Besides, it’d be the best way to have fun.”

“If worst comes to worst,” said Hermione, “would you like to go with me? We can go as friends! That way we can dance with whoever we want.”

Kit smiled at this. “I like the idea of that. Su really wants a certain person to ask her.”

“Perfect! We’ll see how it goes. I expect you’ll get asked by a lot of boys, Kit.”

“Are you kidding?” Kit laughed. “Most boys either see me as a threat or as nonexistent. I’m not pretty.”

“I hope you don’t take offense to this— but what if you fixed your teeth like I did with mine? You and I are both insecure about our teeth. I have found that since I got them adjusted, I feel more confident. No one can really make fun of me, can they?”

Kit didn’t take offense at all. It was one of the things that she and Hermione had initially bonded over— the fact that they hated how their teeth had come in. Kit knew that smiles made a big difference.

“I’d trust you to fix them,” said Kit. “If you’d be so kind as to help me with it.”

“Of course! I’ll review the spells. We can do it the week before the Yule Ball.”

The prospect of getting her teeth fixed was so exciting for Kit that she didn’t even snarl at Snape the entire class.

As the weeks went on, Kit found herself astounded at what she witnessed. She saw some of the shyest people gather their wits and ask the people they fancied. She heard Roger Davies frantically making a plan to ask Fleur Delacour to the ball, and scribbling a letter to his older brother Chester for advice. She caught a glimpse of Mandy Brocklehurst slipping a note to Michael Corner, which fortunately for her, resulted in the acquisition of a date. Kit’s plan seemed to have worked, because Anthony Goldstein asked Su to the ball. Terry Boot had asked Mimi (who had been exceedingly worried about having to choose between taking her sister Isobel or her cousin Orla to the ball). 

“Seems everyone is settling fairly nicely,” Kit said to Blaise one evening in the Slytherin Common Room (after she earned another detention from Snape when he saw her slouched on the armchair). “Are you going to ask anyone?”

“I kind of sort of want to ask Hermione,” admitted Blaise. “But I also don’t like the idea of the Yule Ball. I’m not a party person. I don’t want to make it terrible for her. I don’t like the idea of dancing or loud music.”

“Well, don’t feel obligated to go,” said Kit.

Blaise nodded. “I might leave Hogwarts right when break starts. Andrea’s coming home for the holidays and Mum promised not to invite any of her boyfriends, so I think it should be cozy. You can come by after the Yule Ball, if you can.”

Kit was definitely excited to see Blaise’s older sister, Andrea Zabini, and their mother, Harriet. “I’ll stop by if I can!" She engulfed him in a tight hug, making him chuckle. 

**_**

The last week of the term rolled around, and Kit noticed that it had become increasingly boisterous around the castle, with rumors floating around and excitement filling the air. Kit had been with Harry in the Gryffindor Common Room when she heard that Dumbledore had apparently purchased eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta. However, the second part of the statement had been announced as a fact: Dumbledore had booked the Weird Sisters.

“You’re joking,” said Kit, making Harry frown. He didn’t know what the Weird Sisters were.

“I don’t know how they can be joking, they all seem very excited about it,” answered Harry. “Er… Kit… what exactly are the Weird Sisters?”

“Oh, they’re a really famous musical group. I don’t listen to them much, but they’re supposed to be a pricey package when it comes to bookings. Though, I suppose a man like Dumbledore can make that happen.” Kit may not have respected Dumbledore as much as other students, but she had to admit it was pretty cool that he had a say in many things. 

Kit had heard rumors about who the champions were planning to ask, though the rumors were significantly greater for Viktor and Cedric, as Fleur seemed to be on her own agenda, and no one seemed to know much about Harry. Kit had definitely heard that Cedric was planning to ask her, but no one was sure. They still talked, but neither had discussed the ball. Kit hadn’t brought it up because like Blaise, she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to go to the ball, and like Hermione, she wasn’t sure she even wanted a date. No one had asked Kit, which was both helping and not helping the situation. 

The excitement, it seemed, had transferred from the air in the halls to the classrooms. Su and Kit were pleased to find out that Professor Flitwick had given up trying to teach all his classes. Kit had heard from Harry that the Gryffindors got to play games during the lesson. Meanwhile, Kit’s class had transitioned into an instructional etiquette lesson (that the students had surprisingly requested). Kit was in awe of how much Flitwick knew about dancing and how to comport oneself in events such as these. She had watched as Su and Mimi intently asked questions about what to do in certain situations. Even the boys had listened in. Kit found it funny that the Ravenclaws hardly paid attention with actual Charms lessons, and had preferred to learn about how to be proper at a ball. 

Some other teachers had been like Flitwick, as well. Professor Sinistra had called off the Astronomy lessons (to Kit and Su’s dismay, as they rather enjoyed their nights on the Astronomy Tower). Professor Babbling of Ancient Runes had given them their assignments for the break during that final week and had cancelled classes for anyone who took the final early. Hermione and Kit had jumped at the opportunity and gotten a nice share of free periods after that, which led them to do joint research to make sure Hermione would be ready to fix Kit’s teeth in a few days time. Professor Burbage of Muggle Studies had encouraged them to take the lesson time to frolic like Muggles (mainly because Professor Burbage had wanted to take an early vacation), which left them with another series of free periods. 

However, several of the professors weren’t as generous. Nothing would ever deflect Professor Binns, for example, from plowing on through his notes on goblin rebellions (which Kit despised, as History was her worst subject). Professors McGonagall and Moody kept them working until the very last second of their classes, which made Kit quite nearly snarl something foul at Moody, though she held back out of fear of missing the Yule Ball. Snape, while staring nastily around at them all, had informed them that he would be testing them on poison antidotes during the last lesson of the term.

“Evil, he is,” Ron said bitterly that night while Kit was flopped on the couch with her Transfiguration notes. “Springing a test on us on the last day. Ruining the last bit of term with a whole load of studying.”

“Mmm... you’re not exactly straining yourself, though, are you?” said Hermione. Ron was busy building a card castle out of his Exploding Snap pack.

“It’s Christmas, Hermione,” said Harry lazily. Kit had felt the same just last week, but the final week always had a knack for kicking her into overdrive mode. Her friends liked to joke that she was at her most productive then, though it always made them annoyed that she managed to do so well without studying for exams or even revising. 

“I’d have thought you’d be doing something constructive, Harry, even if you don’t want to learn your antidotes!” Hermione told him.

“Like what?” Harry said.

“That egg!” Hermione hissed. 

Kit looked up at this. “She’s right, Harry, you should start doing that. As the queen of procrastination… you don’t want to leave something that important for the very last day. Remember me two days ago when I was cramming to finish Moody’s stupid essay?”

“Yes, I recall you almost set Ron on fire,” said Harry. “But come on, I’ve got till February the twenty-fourth.”

“But it might take weeks to work it out!” said Hermione, which made Kit nod her head vigorously. “You’re going to look a real idiot if everyone else knows what the next task is and you don’t!”

“Leave him alone, Hermione, he’s earned a bit of a break,” said Ron, and he placed the last two cards on top of the castle and the whole lot blew up, singeing his eyebrows.

“Nice look Ron... go well with your dress robes, that will.”

It was Fred and George. They sat down at the table with Harry, Ron, and Hermione as Ron felt how much damage had been done, making Kit giggle. 

“Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?” George asked.

“No, he’s off delivering a letter,” said Ron. “Why?”

“Because George wants to invite him to the ball,” said Fred sarcastically.

“Because we want to send a letter, you stupid great prat,” said George.

“Who d’you two keep writing to, eh?” said Ron.

“Nose out, Ron, or I’ll burn that for you too,” said Fred, waving his wand threateningly. “So... you lot got dates for the ball yet?”

“Nope,” said Ron.

“Well, you’d better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone,” said Fred.

“Who’re you going with, then?” said Ron.

“Angelina,” said Fred promptly, without a trace of embarrassment.

“What?” said Ron, taken aback. “You’ve already asked her?”

“Good point,” said Fred. He turned his head and called across the common room, “Oy! Angelina!”

Angelina Johnson, who had been chatting with Alicia Spinnet near the fire, looked over at him. “What?” she called back.

“Want to come to the ball with me?”

“All right, then,” she said after giving him a strange look, and she turned back to Alicia and carried on chatting with a bit of a grin on her face.

“There you go,” said Fred to Harry and Ron, “piece of cake.” He then turned to Kit. “Lovely Kit, do you happen to have an owl we can borrow?”

“Sorry boys, you’re out of luck,” Kit sighed. “I’ve never had one.”

Fred nodded, got to his feet, yawned, and said, “We’d better use a school owl then, George, come on...”

“We should get a move on, you know…” said Ron once they left. “Ask someone. He’s right. We don’t want to end up with a pair of trolls.”

Hermione let out a sputter of indignation. “A pair of... what, excuse me?”

“Well— you know,” said Ron, shrugging. “I’d rather go alone than with— with Eloise Midgen, say.”

“Eloise isn’t a bad person, you know,” Kit said sourly. “She’s nice, too. If you’re discriminating because of her acne— it’s gotten loads better lately: she’s getting treatment for it. And she’ll likely wear makeup, so you needn’t bother yourself, you prick.”

Ron didn’t take Kit’s words to heart. “Well, her nose is off-center.”

“So?” Kit inquired. “No one’s nose is perfect, Ron.”

“So basically,” asked Hermione, “you’re going to take the best looking girl who’ll have you, even if she’s completely horrible?”

“Er— yeah, that sounds about right,” said Ron.

“I’m going to bed,” Hermione snapped, and she swept off toward the girls’ staircase without another word. Kit, also annoyed at him, left to her own Common Room. 

On another occasion (once it seemed both Kit and Hermione had cooled down from Ron’s flagrant words), Kit found Harry in the halls, and followed him to the Gryffindor Common Room, only to find Ginny sitting near an ashen-faced Ron.

“What the bloody hell happened to him?” shrieked Kit. 

“Why did I do it?” Ron said wildly. “I don’t know what made me do it!

“What?” said Harry urgently.

“He— er— just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him,” said Ginny. She looked as though she was fighting back a smile.

“I don’t know what made me do it!” Ron gasped again. “What was I playing at? There were people— all around— I’ve gone mad— everyone watching! I was just walking past her in the entrance hall— she was standing there talking to Diggory— and it sort of came over me— and I asked her!”

Kit blinked. Fleur had been talking to Cedric? Kit herself hadn’t seen Cedric around due to all the work he had to finish up. He hadn’t asked her to the ball, either. 

Ron moaned and put his face in his hands, making Kit snap her attention back to him. “She looked at me like I was a sea slug or something. Didn’t even answer. And then— I dunno— I just sort of came to my senses and ran for it.”

“She’s part veela,” said Harry. “You were right— her grandmother was one. It wasn’t your fault, I bet you just walked past when she was turning on the old charm for Diggory and got a blast of it.”

“Isn’t Cedric going with you, Kit?” asked Ginny.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Honestly, I don’t think so. He hasn’t asked me. I don’t know who he might go with. I tried asking around but no one knows anything.”

“Maybe he hasn’t decided yet,” said Harry. “I keep chickening out of asking Cho Chang.”

“Ask her, trust me,” Kit told him. She wished it was that easy— she knew Cho found Harry attractive and she knew Harry found Cho attractive. It would be simple for them to go together. But as for Kit, she was just confused about things. Did Cedric even like her, or did he just see her as a friend?

“This is mad,” moaned Ron. “We’re the only ones left who haven’t got anyone - well, except Neville. Hey— guess who he asked? Hermione!”

“Really?” Kit gasped. 

“Yeah, I know!” said Ron, laughing lightly. “He told me after Potions! Said she’s always been really nice, helping him out with work and stuff— but she told him she was already going with someone. Ha! As if! She just didn’t want to go with Neville... I mean, who would?”

Kit’s nose scrunched up as Ginny gave Ron an annoyed look. “Ron, you’re such a prat,” she hissed. “Neville is a good guy.” 

“Yeah, don’t laugh!” chided Ginny.

Just then Hermione climbed in through the portrait hole, and Kit looked over her skeptically. Hermione saying she was already going with someone to Neville… must have been real. Maybe Hermione had made a choice? Had she asked Blaise or had Blaise asked her, or had someone else asked Hermione? Kit didn’t want to pry, but now she wanted to know.

“Why weren’t you four at dinner?” Hermione said, coming over to join them.

“Because— oh shut up laughing, you two— because Ron’s just been turned down by Fleur Delacour!” said Ginny.

“Thanks a bunch, Ginny,” said Ron sourly.

“All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?” said Hermione loftily. “Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone somewhere who’ll have you.”

But Ron was staring at Hermione as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light. “Hermione, Neville’s right— you are a girl...”

“Oh well spotted,” she said acidly.

“Well— you can come with one of us!”

“No, I can’t,” snapped Hermione.

“Oh come on,” he said impatiently, “we need partners, we’re going to look really stupid if we haven’t got any, everyone else has… how about this, you and Kit can come with each of us! Maybe— hmm… Kit can come with me because she hates attention, and you can go with Harry!”

“I can’t come with you,” said Hermione, now blushing, “because I’m already going with someone.”

“No, you’re not!” said Ron. “You just said that to get rid of Neville!”

“Oh did I?” said Hermione, and her eyes flashed dangerously. “Just because it’s taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn’t mean no one else has spotted I’m a girl!”

“Okay, okay, we know you’re a girl,” Ron said, sounding defeated. “That do? Will you come now?”

“I’ve already told you!” Hermione said very angrily. “I’m going with someone else!”

And she stormed off toward the girls’ dormitories again. Kit and Ginny glared at Ron before following Hermione up.

“I’m going with Neville,” Ginny admitted quietly as she and Kit walked up.

“Ginny, that’s wonderful,” said Kit. “See, you get to go! And Neville is a sweetheart. He will treat you right.”

“I suppose so. I know he can’t dance and he is pretty clumsy… but he’s never been foul to me like some of the other boys.”

“There will be loads of other people at the ball anyway. You can always hang out with others if you’d like, as long as you communicate with Neville.”

“That’s true. Thanks, Kit.” Ginny pushed open the door to find Hermione sitting angrily by the window, which she’d opened to let in some fresh air. 

“Ignore them, Hermione,” sighed Kit. “They’re dumb.”

Hermione huffed and wiped her eyes, apparently having teared up. “They’re insufferable. I— I, well…. I’m going with Viktor Krum.”

Kit and Ginny clapped their hands over their mouths. “Are you serious?” Kit squeaked. “Wow— that explains why he always stared at our table!” Part of her was bummed out that Blaise and Hermione wouldn’t end up going together, but she supposed it was for the best: Hermione would enjoy herself and Blaise wouldn’t feel obligated to be somewhere that made him uncomfortable.

“Yes, I suppose that’s why,” sighed Hermione. “I am excited, really, but I don’t want to tell anyone. They’ll just make fun of me.”

“Are you going to surprise everyone at the ball, then?” asked Ginny, leaning forward to open the window further. However, she quickly leapt back as a tawny owl burst in, dropping a letter on the floor. 

“Who’s that for?” asked Hermione as she bent down to pick it up. She then handed it to Kit. “To: Katherine Cordelia Thompson.”

“Ah, shit,” said Kit. “They’re probably going to send me down some fabrics or something and want me to choose. My mother always chooses what I wear on special occasions.” She sat down on Hermione’s bed and tore open the envelope.

_Katherine,_

_As you know, the Yule Ball’s date has been set. Your father and I will be sending you a gown to wear. It was your sister’s when she got engaged, and we simply need to adjust it to fit you, since Alana’s breasts were bigger._

Kit gritted her teeth. Of course, this ended up in pinpointing something about her that was wrong in their eyes. But her assumption had been right, they were choosing what she would wear. 

_However, before you get ahead of yourself with a date (which we hope you haven't yet, though we find it unlikely that anyone has asked you), your father and I have been discussing things and have officially submitted the paperwork and exchanged the agreement gifts to settle things, meaning your companion has been decided._

Kit’s heart abruptly began to beat rapidly, and she looked up at Ginny and Hermione, alarmed. She had hardly paid attention to her parents' insulting words in the letter. The two girls looked back, unsure what to say, until Hermione asked: “What’s wrong, Kit?”

“Just— hold up—” she answered in a shaky voice, not sure she was ready to tell them. How could this be? From what she’d heard, she wasn’t meant to find out who she was meant to marry until she was between sixteen and seventeen, sometimes until eighteen. Alana and Rabastan’s arranged marriage had been announced when he was nineteen and she was sixteen. They’d been married when Alana had turned seventeen, then when Alana was eighteen, she’d disappeared. 

But this felt wrong. Kit was barely fourteen, and she was just starting to discover what she was attracted to. For now, that was Cedric, even though he hadn’t asked her to the ball or anything. Perhaps that could change, but she was just figuring things out— this was far too soon.

She thought back to her conversation in the fireplace with Sirius Black Had this happened with her sister? Had she really had something special with Sirius, only to find out who she was meant to marry, leading her to respectfully cast him away? Perhaps Kit would prefer to be told this now, before she actually fell in love with someone, but it felt like it was stripping away everything.

With her heartbeat ringing in her ears, Kit gazed down at the rest of the letters.

_You should be quite pleased to hear that you have not been betrothed to someone much older than you. While we did have other potential suitors such as Adrian Pucey, Marcus Flint, and the two Mulciber boys, your father and I have decided that this is for the best, and it will bring us all closer, as well as urge you to see reason with someone you know well._

When Kit’s eyes found the seventeen letters at the bottom of the page, she nearly fainted. 

_Draco Lucius Malfoy._

_It's starting to get much more interesting ;) What are your thoughts :0 Comment for more!_


	17. Chapter 17

**Kit wasn’t sure how long it took for the message to fully sink in, but she certainly hadn’t expected to start crying.**

Her body had careened forward, and Ginny had leapt forward to catch her. Hermione had made her way to Kit’s side, and had picked up the letter, scanning over it. “An arranged marriage with… with Malfoy?”

“I don’t know why!” Kit cried out, covering her face. “I don’t want an arranged marriage to anyone! Especially not someone as foul as him. He may be— may be… tolerable enough sometimes— but he’s a prick! He’ll never leave me to relax!” 

Ginny was unsure how to comfort her. She looked over at Hermione and both seemed to have the same thought: it was better to just let Kit cry it out. The girls put their arms around her.

Kit was confused, angry, and hurt. Confused because perhaps it really wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Draco had been nicer lately. Angry because that implied he might have known about this beforehand and never told her. Furious that her parents had done this without her consent. Hurt that they just shoved her into something she didn’t want. How could she be expected to conform to this? For all Kit knew, she didn’t even fancy boys. She definitely didn’t fancy Draco. This was terrible— why would they force her with him when they knew how malicious he could be? Then again, when had her parents ever cared about her feelings…

“Kit, are you okay?” asked Hermione cautiously.

“No, I’m not okay,” Kit responded a bit harshly. It wasn’t her intention to be mean. Her anger was getting the better of her. She wanted to punch something— _hard_. She didn’t mind breaking a few fingers. Perhaps she’d punch Draco.

Draco. She needed to speak to him.

Cedric. That’s who she needed to see first. She needed to tell him, then Blaise, then go kick Draco where the sun didn’t shine. Maybe then she wouldn’t be forced to have his children or something in the future. Ugh, she hated the fact that they were expected to do that too. 

Kit stood slowly, and rubbed her eyes with her sleeve. “I need to go. I’ll probably be around later… there’s no way I’m going back to my Common Room. I don’t want them to know.”

Hermione and Ginny watched as Kit exited. The Ravenclaw sped down the staircase, then traipsed down the halls toward the Hufflepuff Common Room. She wanted to get there as soon as possible, yet at the same time, she was dreading having to explain things to Cedric. What if he hadn’t been planning to ask her to the ball at all, and she came with a sob story? What if he hadn’t even felt anything special between them, and she suddenly told him they had to end whatever they had?

Once she neared the barrels, she found the little nook and slipped in. She found there was no one in the common room, therefore she elected to go down the boys’ dormitory corridor and try and find out where Cedric’s room was.

She was caught by Ernie Macmillan. “Kit, you shouldn’t be in here,” he said sternly, already taking the persona of a prefect though he wasn’t one.

“I need to see Cedric,” sniffled Kit. Ernie’s expression seemed to become almost pitiful once he realized she was distressed. He waved her over, and slowly led her to a door. He knocked twice, and Cedric opened up.

“Kit,” he said quietly. “What’s wrong?” He nodded back to Ernie, who left. Cedric stepped out, leading Kit back down the hall as if to walk her to her own dormitory.

“I’ve received a letter from my parents,” said Kit shakily. “I’ve been given an arranged marriage. I didn’t— I didn’t think they’d do it to me. Not yet. I was too traitorous for them. I didn’t think it was in their interests at all.”

Cedric didn’t seem surprised. Kit was certain they’d never had this sort of conversation before. “I’m a little confused,” he said, his voice gentle. “I thought you already knew.”

“No, that’s not even how it worked, to my knowledge. I didn’t know they were planning anything, not until now.” She looked up, and furrowed her eyebrows. “Cedric… what aren’t you telling me?”

He hesitated, and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Er— when the Yule Ball was announced… Malfoy came up to me. Told me I couldn’t ask you to the ball because you’d _both_ been told you had to marry each other. He showed me the letter he received from his parents. And… he also had some of the official paperwork as proof. I suppose he had to sign something, since he’s older and he’s the male.”

Kit’s head began to spin. Cedric knew? Draco had known too? “C-Continue,” stuttered Kit. “What else?”

“Well… I had told him that I still intended to ask you. He insisted I didn’t. Said you were really distraught and didn’t even want to talk about it. Said you didn’t want to go to the ball if it meant you had to go with him. I’m really sorry, Kit, I should have asked you to clarify. You had seemed sadder lately and I thought it was that. I didn’t think to bring it up because I assumed I’d be rubbing salt in a wound for you.”

“So he… he didn’t even think to tell me,” whispered Kit. “He knew for a month and he didn’t say anything. He told you instead. I just… I can’t…” it was too much. Perhaps she had seemed ‘sadder’ because her school stress had been catching up to her. But this was ridiculous. How could Draco have dared to lie to her and Cedric? 

“All those times we walked around together,” continued Kit, her voice shaking more, “you knew and you just never said anything. He never bothered to tell me even when he walked with me a few more times. Why—”

“I’m really sorry,” insisted Cedric, looking panicked that she’d be angry. “This is all my fault, Kit, I should have told you that I knew, I should have made sure, I shouldn’t have just trusted Malfoy. I just— I never thought to mention it because I knew I wouldn’t get to go to the ball with you anyway.”

Kit just about snapped. “Yes, you should have told me,” she hissed, more harshly than intended. She knew Cedric wasn’t fully to blame, but she was still really pissed. This miscommunication could have been avoided if Draco wasn’t such a prat, and if Cedric had clarified. Kit was immensely frustrated, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she snapped too much at Cedric. “I need to go,” she said, beginning to walk faster.

“Kit!” Cedric caught up to her and took her arm. This, it turned out, was a mistake. Kit snatched her hand away and whirled around furiously. “Don’t touch me! I said I need to go! Why don’t you go and occupy yourself with asking someone else to the ball, hmm? Seems you’ve been too busy trusting Draco to get a date. I wouldn’t want to stop a champion from getting some girl to accompany him!”

She knew she was being too abrasive. She was aware that this wasn’t okay. She was letting her anger bring out her flaws, and she was hurting someone who was trying to be kind to her. Kit supposed this was why so many people couldn’t stand to be around her. Why no one had asked her to the ball. She was too much of a hothead. It was difficult to be around someone so critical and temperamental. The mere thought of it all made her tear up again. She really was just an insufferable person, wasn’t she? Cedric didn’t actually deserve this from her. 

Cedric didn’t take it to heart. He knew he had done her a disservice by not making sure that what Draco had told him was the truth. “I am sorry, Kit, whether you choose to believe it or not,” he said in the same soothing voice that Kit was despising at the moment. “I hope we can still be friends after this.” He didn’t wait for her retort. He turned and walked back the way they’d come. 

Kit was still fuming as she turned, wiping her eyes yet again as she began to walk, unsure where her legs were carrying her. She was in no mood to go into the kitchens and pig out. She didn’t want to burden Su with her mess, because she knew Su would worry far too much to be helpful. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to talk to Blaise about it— he might punch Draco for hiding it from her, or punch Cedric for not checking in, or just not know what to tell her. 

Kit spun on her heel to turn toward the next hallway, her eyes downcast as she tried to stop more tears from coming. But, as luck would have it, someone was already waiting for her.

“They just owled me that they told you,” said the voice of Draco Malfoy. 

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so _fucking pissed_ if you’d told me when you found out!” hissed Kit as she looked up. “How long have you know, huh? A month? Or more?”

“I’ve barely found out,” said Draco, trying to remain calm. He felt a pang in his heart as he saw her looking so miserable. He had come to care for her again, just like he had before. “I got the owl the day the Yule Ball was announced. They sent me paperwork to sign, since the Malfoy vault at Gringotts is going to fuse with the Thompson vault once our parents die. I needed to officiate the preparations for that.”

Kit scoffed very loudly. “Well, you’d better owl your father and ask for the paperwork to cancel all that. Because I am _not_ going to marry you.”

“Hey, don’t you dare think that I’m thrilled about this,” Draco snapped. 

“You had a month to process it!” snarled Kit. “The Yule Ball is in a matter of days and now I have to go with you!”

“You don’t need to do shit, Kit Kat—”

“STOP CALLING ME THAT! YOU DON’T GET TO— YOU— YOU FOUL PRAT!” Kit would normally come up with much better insults, but she was far too frustrated to think clearly through them. “Get the paperwork! Cancel this stupid thing! I’d rather marry Adrian Pucey than you!”

Draco’s eyes flared. “Oh, yeah? Well I’d rather marry Astoria or Daphne Greengrass, since they were the two contestants on my end! At least they’re actually—” he stopped himself. His anger had almost led him to say ‘at least they’re actually pretty.’ But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t hurt Kit again, not like that, not ever. He didn’t think Kit was ugly at all. In fact, he’d always found her cute. It had just been the heat of the moment that’d almost made him insult her.

Kit wasn’t having it. She knew what he’d been about to say. “Well, if you think they’re so pretty, why don’t you go shag them, then tell your father about it so this stupid arranged marriage is void, huh? Then you’ll _have_ to marry them!”

“I’m not going to go shag them!” Draco bellowed. It angered him that she mentioned it, but he knew exactly why she’d done it. It was their tradition that those who were betrothed to each other had to be each other’s first time. Most times, it happened. He suspected it hadn’t been true for Kit’s sister and her husband, but if none of the parents involved knew, it wouldn’t matter. 

“You bloody well should!” Kit screamed. “I don’t want to marry you!”

“I don’t want to marry you either, you temperamental banshee!” Draco sneered. “If it comes to it, I’ll just marry you out of _spite_!”

“Oh yeah?” Kit challenged. “Then be ready for a nasty divorce! My family has better lawyers than yours! I’ll divorce you, take your fortune, and marry someone I can actually stand to be in the same room with.” With that, she stepped forward, and slapped him across the face. Draco raised his hand to retaliate, out of instinct, but was able to stop himself just as he saw Kit flinch and grimace as she prepared for the blow that never came.

Draco panted heavily, not about to let his anger get the best of him. “Get back,” he hissed. “I’m not my father. I’m not your father either. I’m not… I’m not going to hit you.”

Kit, though not in the mood to listen, took several steps back. Somehow, she was calm enough to understand that it wasn’t a good idea to egg him on. Her body shook, out of fear, rage, and pure annoyance at him. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” whispered Kit, her eyes watery once more, tears dripping down onto her blouse. “Why did you hide that from me? Why did you tell Cedric and not me?”

“My father told me not to tell you,” mumbled Draco. “He said your parents still needed to do their end of the paperwork, and it wasn’t necessarily official yet. I was just forewarned that it might become a thing. It’s only become official as of today, now that they told you. As for Diggory… I was hoping there was a subtle enough hint to him to tell you so you’d be prepared. That way, it wouldn’t be me telling you. I knew Blaise would have gotten far too involved and he could have gotten us all in trouble.”

“Why didn’t you just tell him to tell me?” Kit said. “He clearly didn’t get the hint. According to him, you were more insistent on him not asking me to the Yule Ball.”

Draco faltered visibly. He hesitated to speak. He couldn’t just tell Kit that he was almost certain he was starting to actually fancy her. How would she react? To knowing he was truly jealous of Cedric Diggory? To knowing that these past months, he’d been trying to show her that he cared about her in order to gain another chance at a friendship? To knowing that he didn’t mind marrying her, and spending the rest of his life with someone so intelligent, bold, kind, and fun to be around? He didn’t even know if he knew enough words and phrases to explain properly what he was feeling. 

“I just didn’t want him to get your hopes up,” grumbled Draco. “Because it would have been worse if he still asked you, only for you to have to leave it. It… would have hurt you a lot more to think you could go with him and then find out you couldn’t. So I begged him to not ask you at all.”

Kit couldn’t help but think that it had been mildly considerate of him. He was right. She would have been more hurt and angry if she was under the impression she would go with Cedric, only to find out she had to cut ties. But she was still too angry to want to be even slightly civil to Draco.

“I don’t want to go to the Yule Ball anymore,” she mumbled. “Not with you or anyone.”

Draco winced. “Um, there’s a problem with that. Now that it’s official, we have to go. If we don’t go, they’ll know. At least, that’s what they told me.”

Kit let out an exasperated sigh and covered her face before letting out a tiny sob. Draco wondered if maybe he should comfort her, but Kit didn’t stay long enough for him to have to make that decision. She brushed past him and made her way back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

**_**

The next few days were murder for Kit. For one, she and Harry had shared a very sad awakening at finding that Cedric had asked Cho Chang to the ball. As it turned out, they had been childhood friends who hadn’t talked much at Hogwarts, but had rekindled after they found each other in the library. 

It reminded Kit of the night that she had been on her way to talk to Sirius, and had seen Cho.

_“Don’t get caught prowling around the castle again,” Cho warned as she peeked up from the book._

_“I’ll be good, I promise,” Kit said, tying her hair up and sitting down briefly to fix her shoe._

_Cho bit her lip. “Say, you talk to Harry a lot now, right?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Do you happen to know… who he fancies?”_

_Kit’s eyebrows just about flew off her face. “Do you fancy Harry?”_

_“I’m not sure,” Cho admitted. “He’s really good looking… but there’s also another boy who’s good looking. I think I fancy Harry and not the other boy but… it’s just very conflicting and I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Besides, the other boy and I don’t talk too much, he seems to fancy one of my friends. Which I respect. Which is why I’m asking you if you know who Harry fancies.”_

_Kit shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. But I think you have a chance with him. Just be upfront with him, and tell him, you know?”_

_Cho nodded slowly. “Thank you, Kit. I think I will tell him. Now go, and don’t get in trouble, alright?”_

_“I told you I’ll be good!” Kit chirped as she left the room._

Kit realized that the boy Cho had been talking about must have been Cedric. She sighed to herself the minute she found out, realizing that if Cho and Cedric got further into a relationship, she’d feel guilty talking to Cedric. Since Cedric had been emotionally involved with Kit, it would be like he was cheating on Cho, and Kit didn’t want to get in the way if they were going to get together. Thus, when Harry had asked Kit who he should take to the ball now that Cho was unavailable, Kit had made it very clear to take a girl that wasn’t attached to anyone, and that he actually liked, rather than continuing to procrastinate the choice. 

Two days before the Yule Ball, Kit had received her package in the mail holding her dress. It had been adjusted for her smaller chest size, as her parents had said. It was very elegant: a flowing satin dress that was incredibly smooth and a lilac grey color (more on the grey side, since it hadn’t been used in awhile) that had complimented Alana Thompson very well when she’d worn it once she was formally engaged. The straps were very thin, but when Kit tried it on, she found they fit perfectly over her bony collarbones, and the front flowed delicately around Kit’s chest, enveloping her breasts comfortably and thankfully not exposing too much cleavage to make Kit uncomfortable. The back was entirely open, which made Kit worried, as she had several scars from beatings that had never gone away.

While she loved how good the dress looked on her, she also hated it. It was just a constant reminder that her sister was gone, that her sister had always been better than her, and now a vivid message that Kit was meant to marry the boy who had once been her friend and now was not. Kit hadn’t spoken to Draco since their shouting match in the hallway. She had told Blaise everything, and Blaise had been downright furious, and decided last minute to attend the Yule Ball to keep Kit company. Quite unfortunately, his date ended up having to be Millicent Bulstrode, who was both too quiet and at times critical to be a good companion. Blaise and Kit supposed that it was better than having to take Pansy Parkinson, who was furious that Draco hadn’t asked her. 

The thing was, only Kit’s closest friends: Hermione, Ginny, Harry, Ron, Blaise, and Su currently knew that Draco and her had an arranged marriage. Then of course, Cedric and Draco were aware. Kit had let Su know after Su had found Kit crying in their dormitory. As far as anyone else knew… Draco Malfoy had suddenly had a change of heart and asked Kit to go to the ball with him.

“It’s even worse that they think that,” huffed Kit as Hermione prepared to adjust her teeth, at long last. “I’d rather they know about the arranged marriage! It doesn’t even make sense for him to have asked me. It’s out of character and he never asks for anything— he just takes.”

“Well, if you want them to know the truth, tell them,” said Hermione as she sat Kit down. “You don’t have to tolerate those lies going around. You have every right to let anyone know that you’re being forced to go to the ball with him.”

Kit nodded, and leaned back into Hermione’s headrest, holding her mouth open as Hermione delicately waved her wand over her teeth. Kit’s hands twitched anxiously as she waited a few dreadful seconds, before Hermione said “Stop” firmly, and lowered her wand. She handed Kit a mirror. “See how you like it.”

Kit nearly cried when she gazed over her teeth. They were perfect. She had been blessed with straight teeth, but one of her greatest insecurities had always been her large front teeth, which made her mouth look strange. Now, they aligned well, and Kit almost felt beautiful.

She felt herself tear up, and let the mirror fall gently before throwing her arms around Hermione. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Of course,” Hermione said, rubbing her back. “Anytime.”

Kit sniffled and pulled back. “Hermione… do you think I could come and get ready with you? Su and the others are going to the older girls’ dormitories because they’re doing a lot of makeup and hairstyles.”

“Sure!” Hermione said happily. “I was planning on doing some light makeup… my mum taught me how over the summer. Would you like me to teach you?”

“Yes, please!”

Another hug from Hermione just about made Kit’s night.

_Comment for more :)_


	18. Chapter 18

**The day of the Yule Ball came, and Kit felt miserable at the prospect of going with Draco.**

She went down for breakfast with Su and Mimi after they’d opened their Christmas presents. Kit had gotten Su, Mimi, Hermione, and Ginny all copies of a special edition novel that she knew all the girls would enjoy. She had given Harry and Ron some money, as she had no idea what they really wanted or needed at the moment. For Blaise, she’d bought him a new set of art quills, as he was developing a great interest in portraits (mostly of Hermione, though Kit would never tell a soul). Meanwhile, Kit had received a makeup kit from Hermione to be used later, a sweater that Ron and Ginny had asked their mother to make for Kit (she was incredibly grateful, as she’d never had a hand-made sweater before), several candies from Harry, a notebook with a quill that wrote in a gorgeous purple ink from Su, some Galleons to be saved for an eventual new broom from Blaise, and finally, a small gift from her parents.

“Are they really expecting me to wear this?” sighed Kit to Su as she dangled a necklace on her fingertips. It was beautiful, a silver pendant that Kit had seen her mother wearing on several occasions. “First of all, my mother would never let me wear this before. Why now? It’ll go well with my dress, but…”

“You should wear it!” chirped Mimi. “It’ll look beautiful on you.”

“Well, what if it’s a trap?” said Su, which was something along the lines of what Kit was thinking.

“Don’t be so cynical!” Mimi scolded.

“Well, she might be right,” said Kit. “They might have charmed it so I get Imperioused or something to go to the ball with You-Know-Who.” Su nodded, and Mimi didn’t inquire further. She knew it certainly didn’t mean _Voldemort_ , but Mimi liked the suspense of not knowing who Kit’s date was. Besides, if Kit wanted to keep it a secret, she would respect that.

The girls enjoyed a nice breakfast and lunch, which included several turkeys and puddings, leaving Kit feeling rather plump. When Su and Mimi were preoccupied with their conversation, she felt over her belly for the stomach chub she knew was there, and frowned. She wished she could charm that off. 

Around four o’clock, Su and Mimi dashed upstairs with Cho and Marietta Edgecombe, and Kit was left to gather her things and head to the Gryffindor Common Room alone.

She found Hermione there, laying out her gorgeous periwinkle dress and accessories. “So, do we put our makeup on first or the dress?” asked Kit.

“Makeup first,” said Hermione. “Here, I prepared some old shirts of mine we can wear while we do it. Then, I can do your hair. After that, we’ll put on our dresses.”

Kit nodded, and the girls got to work. It seemed Hermione was primarily preoccupied with fixing Kit up, therefore Kit remained seated very still while Hermione moved her fingers around her hair, braiding it so that it looped around Kit’s head elegantly, some curly strands left on the sides. 

“It looks gorgeous, Kit,” oohed Hermione as Ginny scrambled in, wiping snow off her hair. Apparently, she and her siblings (and Harry) had been participating in a snowball fight on the grounds.

Next, came the makeup. Ginny seemed to know how to do her own, and was in front of the mirror while Hermione knelt before Kit and began brushing and moving things over her face. The sensation was very foreign to Kit, but she made sure to remain rooted to the spot.

Hermione moved to do Ginny’s hair next, and Kit climbed behind Hermione to do hers, not yet daring to look at her face. “Here, use this on me,” said Hermione, thrusting back a bottle of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion to Kit’s waiting hand.

“Say, didn’t Fleamont Potter invent this?” asked Kit as she opened it. “No wonder Harry’s got all that fortune.”

“Did he? Bless him, this is the only thing that will work on my hair. Sleek it down for me and please put it in a bun.”

Kit was a bit nervous about doing that, as she had never really done anyone else’s hair. However, she found it simpler than expected, and coiled Hermione’s hair into a tight knot, that looked very well on her.

Hermione did her own makeup next, and Kit lotioned and perfumed her own body before slipping on the dress. She had acquired a pair of short heels to wear, and put them on before turning so that Ginny and Hermione could see her.

“Oh, Kit,” Ginny breathed. “You must wear your mother’s necklace! It’ll make it a thousand times better!”

Reluctantly, Kit put the necklace on, and turned to see Hermione and Ginny were now finished. Ginny looked absolutely gorgeous in a green and pink dress that fit her very well, Her hair was slightly curled and tucked neatly behind her head. Hermione was radiant— Kit had never seen her look so grown up. Her periwinkle dress flowed around her body and her makeup and hair amplified her natural, hidden beauty.

Kit walked over to the mirror, and her breath hitched. For the first time in her life, she truly felt beautiful. The dress was loose enough to hide the stomach chub she’d been so concerned about earlier. It fit well around her slightly gaunt figure, and the necklace had indeed been the perfect finishing touch. Her makeup was fairly natural, but the curled eyelashes and plucked and lightly penciled in eyebrows made every difference.

“Hermione, thank you,” Kit breathed, leaning back as her two friends came beside her. All three looked like a very dapper group.

“Of course, anytime!” Hermione chirped. “Now, I’m going downstairs to meet Viktor— do any of you want to come with?”

“I will,” said Ginny.

“I’m going to check on the boys— I recall Ron complaining about his dress robes,” said Kit.

The girls parted ways, and Kit made her way to the boys’ dormitory, where she found Seamus Finnigan, Neville, and Dean Thomas on their way out.

“I screwed it up!” hissed Ron from inside. Kit went in, and found he had used a Severing Charm on the ruffs and cuffs of his dress robes. However, he hadn’t done a very neat job, and the edges still looked depressingly frayed.

“Let me fix that.” Kit extracted her wand and began waving it to at the very least make it look neater.

“Wow, Kit,” said Harry. “You look really nice.”

“Thanks, Harry, so do you,” she chirped back. “There, Ron, I think that will look better. I can try and change the color of your robes, if you’d like.”

“Please.” Ron sounded desperate. Kit let out a slight chuckle and worked to make them several shades darker, which made them look considerably better. 

“Who are you two going with, anyway?” asked Kit.

“Parvati and Padma Patil,” said Harry.

“Oh, Padma’s in my House,” said Kit. “We don’t talk much, but she can be nice. But those sisters like attention. They deserve it, of course, because they’re really pretty, but they know their worth and they won’t settle if you both ignore them. So, dance with them, chat with them. Who knows? You might become good friends with them.”

The boys nodded, and Kit left, going down the staircase. She made her way to the entrance hall, which was filled with students with several different colored dress robes. She saw Fleur Delacour with a silver-gray satin dress, her arm on none other than Roger Davies, who smirked at Kit as they passed her. She nudged him playfully as he led Fleur away.

Kit suddenly felt very self conscious, for many reasons. One, this was the first time anyone had ever seen her with a dress this revealing and makeup. Two, she was wondering if anyone had noticed the scars that she hadn’t remembered to hide. She reached her own hand behind her back, feeling a particularly jagged one from when her father threw her down, and her side got split by a table corner. 

She caught a glimpse of Anthony, Su, Terry, and Mimi flooding near the entrance of the Great Hall. She wanted to go near them, but she also wanted to find Blaise. She’d only be able to tolerate going with Draco if it meant she could talk to Blaise.

“Kit!” she whirled around and saw Blaise waving his arm at her through the crowd. She made her way there, seeing Millicent Bulstrode following behind him. She didn’t look overly excited, but Kit did notice that she seemed eager to go inside. “You clean up very nice,” noted Blaise. 

“As do you, sir,” Kit said playfully as she bowed to him.

“Draco’s behind us,” announced Millicent, making Kit’s expression drop as Draco practically materialized beside her. Behind him were Crabbe and Goyle, who hadn’t managed to acquire a date. Pansy Parkinson was nowhere in sight.

“Her date is Theodore Nott,” said Draco as he took Kit’s arm. She snatched her hand away, and Draco let out a sigh. “Just thought you were wondering where she was, is all.”

Kit had to admit that Draco did look pretty handsome. His dress robes were black velvet with a high collar, and though it made him look strange, it fit him very well. He’d grown quite tall over the years, and Kit craned her neck up to meet his icy blue eyes. She’d never admit it out loud, but he looked pretty handsome. 

Behind them, the oak front doors opened, and Kit turned briskly, making her way there. Blaise had lurched forward with Millicent beside him to end up on one side of Kit. Draco had managed to keep her pace, and was beside her.

“You look very beautiful,” said Draco quietly as they slipped inside. Kit, who wasn’t used to hearing such words from him, hadn’t initially heard him. He then nudged her side, and when she looked up, rather annoyed, he repeated, “You look very beautiful.”

Kit’s cheeks flared up, and she quickly looked down. Was she now obligated to say something in return? No, she shouldn’t be required to say anything. However, she found that she didn’t mind returning the compliment. “And you— er— look nice too.”

“I see that you wore the necklace I got you,” murmured Draco. Kit’s limbs went rigid. “You got me that necklace? But—”

“I remember when we were six, you begged your mother to let you wear it. Every other day, I believe. I found a nice replica of it, and I thought it would look good with the dress. My er— parents have a picture of them with Alana at her engagement party, so I knew what the dress would look like.”

Kit felt the blush creeping from her cheeks down to wherever she was pale enough to blush, which in her case was mostly everywhere since she was almost pallid. “I um, appreciate it. Why did you label it as a gift from them?”

“I didn’t think you’d want it if it was labeled from me,” he admitted, leaving Kit to look back down to the floor. 

Millicent seemed to be the one making the decisions, as she gestured for the group to sit at a table nearer to the front. She plopped down, followed by Blaise, then Kit, then Draco, and on the other side of him, Crabbe and Goyle. Kit thought that perhaps this would be a tolerable group, especially since Draco was being so kind, until Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson came and took the last two seats at their particular table.

“Oh, joy,” hissed Kit under her breath as Pansy greeted Millicent with a strange series of giggles. Millicent didn’t return the gesture so warmly— she simply nodded her head at the girl, who was dressed in a horrible frilly pink dress.

“What’s she doing here?” Pansy sneered. Kit already knew she meant her.

“She’s my date, so shut your mouth,” said Draco without a beat of hesitation. Kit and Blaise shared a strange look. 

Once everyone else was settled, the champions and their dates began to file in. Kit giggled as she watched Roger Davies gaze at Fleur, rather than look around at the school. Next came Cedric and Cho. It seemed they had rekindled their old friendship to a greater extent now, and Kit felt a pang of jealousy. In another reality, that would have been her beside Cedric. Next, Krum and Hermione. Several girls stared loathingly at her, but Kit beamed. Finally, Harry and Parvati, who seemed to be leading him rather than the other way around. When the champions had reached the top table, it seemed to be time for the feast.

There was no food as yet on the glittering golden plates, but small menus were lying in front of each of them. Kit noticed that Dumbledore looked carefully down at his own menu, then said very clearly to his plate, “Pork chops!” The pork chops appeared, and Kit gazed down at her own menu.

“Anything you don’t want, you can give to me,” said Draco, having held the menu as if to hide the fact he was talking to Kit. “I know you can be a picky eater.”

Kit said nothing, because while he was right, she had no intention of handing him her leftovers. She hummed to herself. “Blaise, should I get more turkey, or should I get the ham?”

“I haven’t had turkey yet because I skipped lunch… so I suggest you get the ham. We can always trade.”

Kit liked this compromise. Draco seemed indignant, however, hearing that Kit would much rather share food with Blaise than him. Kit wasn’t sure what she expected. Just because they used to trade snacks as children didn’t mean she was about to do that with him now. Perhaps he had been a bit kinder on several occasions, but it certainly didn’t imply that they were close enough to return to old habits.

“So, Draco, where did you get those lovely robes?” asked Pansy, leaning over the table.

“They were my father’s when he was younger,” mumbled Draco. “He thought I’d like to wear them.”

Pansy let out a shrill giggle. “How funny, this dress was my mother’s!”

“Your mother has terrible taste, then,” Kit said before she could stop herself. Blaise laughed, and Millicent’s lips twitched, but Pansy was furious.

“Don’t you talk about my mother like that,” Pansy hissed. “At least she loves me. I hear yours wishes she got rid of you before your birth.”

Kit moved to get up, but to her surprise, both Blaise and Draco held her down. She shook her wrists free of their hold. “Doesn’t change the fact you look like a bloody idiot, Parkinson,” sneered Kit. “I’m sure Theo only let you come with him out of pity.”

Theodore seemed to find this quite comical, but Pansy was once again not laughing. “Well, the only reason you get to come with Draco is because your parents felt sorry for you. You’d never have ended up married in the future if you didn’t have something arranged.”

“First of all,” hissed Kit with a deadly chuckle, “what makes you think I wanted to get married— ever— and what makes you think that I wanted to be Draco’s date?” 

Pansy seemed at a loss for words on that one, but after a split second, quickly recovered. “I bet you’d rather go with one of your Mudblood friends, hmm?”

“Pansy, shut the bloody hell up,” Draco snapped before Kit could retaliate. “Seriously. Or I’ll make sure that you end up bathed in punch. Kit Kat’s right— your dress looks bloody ridiculous. So piss off.”

Kit felt her cheeks flare up as Pansy’s mouth shut very abruptly. What had gotten into Draco? He’d never defended her this much in public. It was almost flattering... but Kit knew better than to trust Draco Malfoy so easily. Who knew what his motive was.

Once everyone had finished eating, Dumbledore beckoned for everyone to stand. Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it.

The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. They picked up their instruments, and the champions and their partners rose. Kit and Blaise watched as Harry struggled to dance with Parvati. Kit, however, felt Blaise tense when Krum lifted Hermione briefly into the air.

Soon, more people began to join the dance floor. Neville and Ginny were one of the first pairs Kit noticed. Then, Dumbleore with Madame Maxime. Mad-Eye Moody was doing an extremely ungainly two-step with Professor Sinistra, who was nervously avoiding his wooden leg. 

Kit jumped a mile as Draco took her hand. “What the—”

“Sorry,” he stated apologetically, letting go of her. “I thought— er— you might want to dance.”

Kit squirmed. “Not really. I don’t like dancing. And the entire back of this dress is open…”

She thought perhaps Draco wouldn’t understand, and he’d be rotten again forcing her to dance. But he just shrugged. “Fine by me. I’d rather not have to mingle with all those idiots who find extreme pleasure in this.”

Kit scoffed. “For a minute there I’d thought you’d say the ‘M’ word.” The comment was completely aloof, but Draco seemed to take it as civil small talk.

“I can do my best not to use that,” hummed Draco. “It’s just a habit.”

“Well, my parents say it all the time and I have enough restraint to not use it,” murmured Kit as she sat back down. Blaise had taken Millicent to dance, it seemed (perhaps as a ploy to catch a sight of Hermione). Pansy seemed to have dragged Theodore to the dance floor, and besides the oafs who weren’t paying attention, Kit and Draco were alone.

“You’ve always been different than me, Kit,” said Draco. “You’re terrible at wizard’s chess—”

“That’s not something you need to bring up—”

“Alright, but still. You’ve always been better at things than I have. You… were better at standing up to your parents.”

Kit winced. “Well, see what that earned me.”

Draco nodded. “I understand. Father can be so abusive sometimes—”

“Your father isn’t abusive,” Kit said firmly. “Just because he takes your things doesn’t make him abusive. He’s just strict. He and your mother have never laid a hand on you.”

Draco didn’t seem to entirely grasp the fact that this was triggering her in a negative way. If there was one thing Kit hated, it was when someone said their parents were abusive when that was not the case. Draco thought he understood, since his parents could be very strict indeed. He knew it wasn’t as bad as Kit’s parents, but he didn’t see any harm in perceiving it a certain way. Kit, on the other hand, couldn’t and wouldn’t stand for it. Her memories were too vivid and painful for her to let his comment slide. 

“Can we talk about something else?” she prompted. She was trying her very best to tolerate him, to try and be civil for the night. She didn’t want to mention such things in the midst of the Yule Ball.

Draco gazed out onto the dance floor. “Erm… Potter is clearly very bad at dancing.”

“Can you blame him? Dancing is stupid to me.”

Draco shifted in his seat. Kit looked to where his eyes fell, and felt her heart ache all over again as Cedric spun Cho in his arms.

“I bet I would have made a better champion,” mumbled Draco. Kit supposed he was trying to distract her. “Slytherin over Gryffindor, any day.”

“I highly doubt you’d make a better champion,” scoffed Kit. “Just the other day with the Blast-Ended Skrewts you ran to hide in Hagrid’s cabin, and I got burned.”

“I recall. I suppose Blaise told you I visited, that day.”

“Yes, he did. But it doesn’t change the fact you did. If you can’t handle skrewts, what makes you think you could have bested a dragon?”

“I’ve been through more than Potter,” Draco said, his nostrils flaring. “Scarhead’s had it easy his whole life.”

“You haven’t been through more than him!” hissed Kit. “Harry was forced to live under the stairs! He had shitty food and his aunt, uncle, and cousin treated him like scum! Then, with the likes of you… you make his life miserable! Not to mention he’s almost died a thousand times trying to keep others safe! What’s worse, people like our parents are helping to get him killed! You haven’t worked a day in your life. Snape treats you like a saint! Your father gives you everything you ask for!”

“You don’t know what my life is actually like, Kit,” snarled Draco, apparently sick of being compared to Harry now, even though he’d been doing it before. 

“Oh, don’t I? No, I only just grew up with you for eleven years of your life! We were together practically every day since my birth!”

Draco rolled his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Fine! I’m sorry.”

“That’s a half-assed apology! You’re honestly so selfish. It seems like years of seeing me being mistreated has taught you nothing. You always try and act like your life is so hard, as if that gives you an excuse for using cruel slurs and bullying others!” She stood, and shoved her chair in. “I’m fucking leaving. This is bullshit. This is why I didn’t want to come with you— you’ll never stop being just like the lot of them.” 

She stormed away, finding an empty hallway and sitting down, leaning against the wall so she could still hear the music. She wished she didn’t get angry so easily. She wished she wasn’t plagued by memories of pain from the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally. She wasn’t sure at what point she started crying, nor at what point she stopped, but she forgot about the Yule Ball almost entirely and just let the tunes be background music to her sobbing.

When the Weird Sisters finished playing at midnight, Kit dried her eyes properly and made her way back to the entrance hall, where she thankfully found Harry and Ron.

“Thank goodness I found you two,” she said softly, grabbing onto Harry’s arm so that if Draco saw her, he wouldn’t approach.

“Seems we all had a pretty shit night,” huffed Ron. 

“Hey— Harry!”

It was Cedric. Kit could see Cho waiting for him in the entrance hall below. Cedric seemed to want to tell Harry something privately, so Kit descended a few steps. Cho ran up.

“Hey, Kit!” she squealed. “Guess what? Cedric asked me to Hogsmeade!”

Kit, already thoroughly annoyed with Draco, quite nearly snapped at Cho. But that wasn’t fair— it wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t known how serious Cedric and Kit were, and she probably didn’t know what’d transpired between them. 

“That’s great,” said Kit with a wry grin. She felt hurt, but she wouldn’t show it. “Listen, I’ll stop talking to Cedric if that’s what you’d like. It’s the respectful thing to do.”

“Kit, you don’t have to do that—”

“I do. Because I fancied him, and he might have fancied me too. It’s for the best. I don’t want to get in the way of whatever you two are going to have.”

Before Cho could respond, Kit walked back up, not looking at Cedric as he brushed past her. 

Harry was out of sight by then, therefore Kit made her way to the Ravenclaw Common Room, where she quickly cleaned her face, discarded her dress, and flopped onto her bed. The other girls weren’t back yet. 

Kit pulled out a small pocket mirror from her drawer, and gazed over her features. Without makeup, she was regular old Kit. The kind of girl that no one would call beautiful. As mad as she was at Draco, she couldn’t help but remember that _he’d_ called her beautiful. Draco Malfoy of all people. Had he just been saying it?

As she curled up to go to sleep, she felt a silent tear rolling down her face. He probably didn’t mean it. How could anyone? Who would like pale, skinny with ugly chub, blood traitor, scarred, temperamental, easily upset Kit?

Certainly not Draco Malfoy.

Never.

_Comment for more :)_


	19. Chapter 19

**Kit hadn’t expected to see her parents at Platform 9 ¾ the following day.**

She had just stepped off the train beside Blaise, as they were both going to visit their families. Typically, she went with him to his place on a taxi, then continued the rest of the way alone to the Thompson Manor. However, she was greeted by her parents, standing arm in arm near the barrier that separated the wizards from the Muggles.

“Katherine!” Kit gritted her teeth as she walked up to her mother. “Good grief, I see that you’ve gained weight,” Alison huffed. “You’ll need to start doing more exercise. Clearly allowing you to join the Quidditch team was insufficient.”

Kit curtsied with a blank expression. Her father grasped her arm and led her out. “I was informed that you and Draco were at the ball together last night. I’m pleased to hear that. I was afraid you’d disappoint us, as usual.”

“Who was your spy?” scoffed Kit. “Who’d you have to pay to inform you?”

It was strange that her father didn’t answer right away. Usually, Kenneth Thompson prided himself on always having the answers, always controlling what people got to know. For him to hesitate…

“Severus,” said Kenneth simply, though Kit suspected this wasn’t at all true. “He is a family friend, and we’ve been corresponding since your unfortunate outburst earlier in the year whilst defending a Mudblood girl.”

“Don’t you dare call her that!” Kit snapped as her parents yanked her along the crowded hall of people. “Snape fucking deserved—“

Kenneth suddenly squeezed Kit’s arm so hard, that the girl let out a panicked squeak, and tried to wriggle free of his grasp, only for him to press with more force. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that about your Professor,” snarled her father so only Kit and her mother could hear. “He is our colleague and you will not disrespect him. Especially not for the sake of a Mudblood. I already deal with enough of those disgusting creatures at the Ministry because they’re trying to be inclusive. You may have gone to waste until now but I will keep reminding you to comport yourself accordingly. As a matter of fact, you should expect a punishment when we arrive home.”

Kit tensed, and stopped trying to break free of her father. Kenneth eased his grip, but Kit could hardly feel her hand anymore. She wiggled her fingers, and winced as pain shot back up her arm. Her hand was swirling red and white as feeling was beginning to come back. Any harder and Kenneth would have broken several of her fingers. He’d broken them once, a long time ago, though the memory was too fuzzy for Kit to recall what’d happened. 

When they arrived at the Thompson Manor, Alison Thompson made her way leisurely to the sitting room. She had no intention of watching the beating that was about to take place. Kit’s mother was abusive on her own accord, but she never chose to witness her husband’s wrath upon their daughter. Kit hated her mother for that. She never cared to stop it, and she only continued the cycle later on.

Hours later once Kit had bathed and examined the new series of bruises that lined her abdomen, chest, and arms, she wrapped herself in a delicate robe and curled up on her bed. She could vaguely hear a violin playing— probably one of the servants using soothing music to calm another of her mother’s migraines. Kit wasn’t sure how music helped. Alison Thompson conjured up her own storms and gave herself the migraines to begin with.

The following morning, Kit was unpleased to find that the Malfoys had been invited over— Draco included. Her mother barged into her room to show Kit what she was required to wear.

“Mother, this dress is ridiculous!” Kit hissed as her mother tossed the fabric onto the bed. “This is going to make me feel really uncomfortable— and it’s ugly!”

“I said to wear it, so you will,” Alison snarled. She then suddenly grabbed Kit’s face, making the girl shriek. The woman pried her mouth open and held her roughly in place, before abruptly delivering a hard slap onto Kit’s face. Kit cried out, and the woman tossed her to the floor.

“You adjusted your teeth without permission,” seethed Alison, extracting her wand. “Perhaps we can let that slide. But perhaps it also indicates we are giving you far too much freedom! You are a stupid, worthless child, and now you’ve gone and attempted to fix yourself, as if that’ll change how idiotic, meritless, and disgusting you are? Why couldn’t you be more like your sister? She cared about her image, she was beautiful and intelligent— something you will never be!”

Kit crawled back on the floor, trying to get away from her mother. But it seemed Alison was no longer in pursuit of her. “You will put on the dress,” commanded Alison with a low growl. “You will fix that stupid face of yours to look at least decent to look at. You will come down and behave like a proper lady with none of that Mudblood-loving riffraff. And you will converse and sit beside your future husband at all times. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, mother,” said Kit shakily, feeling her entire face stinging from the slap.

“Good,” hissed Alison. “I’m being completely serious, Katherine— if you come down looking trashy… I’ll make sure to teach Draco how to punish you in the future.” She looked her up and down. “He’s getting the worst end of this deal, mind you. I bet when you’re married, he’ll have several mistresses around in order to feel some sort of pleasure. Something you’ll never be able to give him. You’re too inadequate for him.”

Kit wanted to cry. But she wouldn’t give her mother the satisfaction. It seemed this arranged marriage was really just meant to be torture for Kit. 

Once she heard the familiar sound of greeting downstairs, she descended in the uncomfortably short and very revealing dress that her mother had chosen for her. Underneath, she’d snuck a tank top and shorts. If she got a second of freedom, she’d change.

Lucius and Narcissa, as usual, engulfed Kit in a hug. She felt awkward. They may be her godparents, but now they were going to become her in-laws. She didn’t like that. Narcissa was a good godmother, but Lucius was always very detached and only spoke to her parents.

Draco came forward from behind his parents, and gazed over Kit before turning his attention to Kenneth and Alison, who engulfed him in a warm hug. Kit had never experienced that.

“Children, now that you’re together, we should really get to see how you’ll interact,” said Kenneth as Draco very awkwardly shook Kit’s hand. She gave him a wry grin.

“Go on, kiss her, Draco, it’s only proper,” prompted Lucius, making Kit go rigid.

“Actually, Father, I feel it’d be more special if we didn’t kiss until our wedding day,” said Draco convincingly. Kit suppose that he, like her, was disgusted at the idea of them having to lock lips. “It keeps the suspense building up.”

“How adorable,” said Narcissa, smiling as she rubbed Draco’s back. She pulled Kit into another hug, before separating in order for the parents to go and sit near each other at the dining table.

“Hi,” said Draco as he walked alongside Kit. “You er— put on some makeup again.”

“Yeah, and?” muttered Kit, crossing her arms.

“I was just noticing,” he mumbled. Once they neared the table, he pulled a chair out for Kit, but to spite him, she went to another chair, pulled it out for herself, and plopped down. 

Their meal came, complete with steamed potatoes in creamy sauce, garlic bread, ham, turkey, venison, and roast duck all available to have as a main dish, and of course, Alison Thompson’s signature Christmas chicken pot pie.

“Alison, you’ve really outdone yourself,” said Lucius. “I’m surprised you don’t make the servants cook.”

“I prefer them to clean on the days they are here,” she said wryly. “I don’t like them to come often enough anyway. Cooking is something I do still enjoy.” 

Kit almost had to laugh. Her mother was just a control freak. 

“Now, Katherine, Draco told us that you looked ravishing in your dress last night,” said Narcissa. “I do adore the fact that your sister’s dress fits you so well.

“I highly doubt he used the word ‘ravishing,’” said Kit in the nicest tone she could. To ensure it did not sound snarky, she added a light and very false giggle. “But yes, I’m pleased it fit. It was comfortable to be in.”

“Draco tells us you spent the entire night seated and chatting,” added Lucius. Kit glanced sideways at Draco, who was helping himself to the roast duck. 

“Yes, we did,” she answered cautiously. “Neither of us were up for dancing.”

“So we heard,” Kenneth mused. “You do know you’ll at the very least need to dance at your wedding, yes?”

“Of course, sir,” answered Draco. Kit noticed he seemed quite eager to answer anything regarding their arranged marriage. “We’ll practice when it comes time for that. But dancing isn’t really my thing anyway. Observing is better.”

“Smart boy, you are,” said Kenneth, pointing at Draco with his fork. “Observing is the key to business and success. You learn to observe the right things… and you’ll learn to manipulate people accordingly.”

Kit gritted her teeth as Alison asked, “Draco, what career are you hoping for? Or will you simply invest to earn money?”

That seemed to put Draco on the spot, in a way he didn’t like. “Er— I haven’t given an immense amount of thought into it… I suppose I wouldn’t mind working somewhere in the Ministry.”

A lie, thought Kit. Draco had told her long ago that he’d always wanted to be a Professor, or a Quidditch player, or some other bizarre job. He would never be satisfied with a Ministry job— it wasn’t in the cards for him.

“And you, Katherine?” asked Lucius. “Unless, of course, you’ll be a housewife and mother.”

“I want to be a Healer,” said Kit. 

“A Healer will hardly leave you time to be a mother,” said Lucius.

“Many women have managed,” retorted Kit, her tone not so pleasant anymore. “My entire purpose isn’t to be a mother. I might not even be able to have children.” She knew she should have stopped, but if there was one thing Kit didn’t know how to do, it was how to quit while she was ahead. “I don’t even want children to begin with— the idea of them is so utterly revolting. Just because I’ve got the organs for it, doesn’t mean it’s my main purpose in life.”

“Katherine Cordelia Thompson!” hissed Kenneth. “Apologize to your godfather immediately.”

“She needn’t apologize,” said Narcissa, looking like she at the very least understood Kit’s point of view. She supposed maybe long ago, Narcissa had never been able to see herself as a mother either. 

“She should learn to respect her elders,” snapped Kenneth. “Apologize now, Katherine.”

Kit gave him a sour look before turning to Lucius. “I’m sorry, godfather. I didn’t mean to be rude. I just went off on a tangent.”

“You are forgiven.” That was one thing Kit liked about Lucius— he was forgiving and he never went off on her even when she was rude to him. She supposed he’d had worse retorts with Draco as a son.

“Anyway, I heard about Douglas’s passing,” said Lucius. “St. Mungo’s reported it in the Daily Prophet.”

“I saw,” muttered Kenneth, taking a swig of his drink. “Good riddance, I say. My father gave him his name and the idiot used it to besmirch the Thompson reputation. He deserved everything he got.”

Kit knew who they were talking about. Her uncle, Douglas Thompson, was Kenneth’s younger brother. He had been in Ravenclaw, but he’d also been disowned because of it. Kit had heard that he’d fallen ill years ago, around the time when Kit was two. She wished she could have met him. She hated the fact her father hated his brother so much, just because he was in another House and had almost married a Muggle-born woman, until her untimely death fighting in the war. 

“I say, did your father ever hear about him falling ill?” asked Lucius. “Douglas Sr. was still alive when it occurred.”

“My father never cared to know his whereabouts. I only ever found out because I was still listed as next of kin from the time Douglas’s shoulder was mauled by a chimaera back when he was still off, frolicking, and being a sniveling Mudblood lover in Romania or Egypt or wherever. I told them to stop trying and to just let him die, but Douglas was still conscious enough to refute my orders. I suppose the idiot finally gave out.”

“He was comatose for five years, wasn’t he?” asked Narcissa.

“That’s what we were told,” answered Alison. “But we never visited to make sure. Regrettably, we should have, to make sure that he died earlier.”

Kit was thankful when the meal ended. She immediately made her way out to her pond, only to discover Draco following her.

“What the bloody hell do you want?” she hissed.

“They said I had to go with you,” he mumbled. 

She ignored him and trudged the rest of the way, tearing off her dress. A seam ripped, and Kit gritted her teeth for what felt like the millionth time in the last twenty-four hours. “Shit,” she said to herself, discarding the dress on a rock as she adjusted her tank top and sat down. She felt a bit self conscious as she gazed at the hair on her arms and looked down at her stomach chub, but she tried not to focus on it. It’d just make Draco tease her, or something.

It seemed, however, that teasing was not on his agenda. He said nothing for awhile, but then cleared his throat. “Did they do that to you?”

Kit was unsure what he meant, until she noticed him pointing to a bruise on her underarm— one of the many new ones. “Oh… yeah. Yesterday. I guess it was for cursing at Snape that time, and for being ‘rude’ or whatever.”

Draco shifted a little closer to her. “Listen… Kit Kat—”

“Please, don’t talk,” she mumbled. “I don’t care.”

He let out a loud sigh, and extracted a copy of The Daily Prophet that he had tucked under his arm. “First page,” he murmured as he handed it to her. Kit didn’t look at him as she took it, but her eyes went wide. 

_DUMBLEDORE_ ’ _S GIANT MISTAKE_

 _Albus Dumbledore, eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has never been afraid to make controversial staff appointments, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. In September of this year, he hired Alastor_ “ _Mad-Eye_ ” _Moody, the notoriously jinx-happy ex-Auror, to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, a decision that caused many raised eyebrows at the Ministry of Magic, given Moody_ ’ _s well-known habit of attacking anybody who makes a sudden movement in his presence. Mad-Eye Moody, however, looks responsible and kindly when set beside the part-human Dumbledore employs to teach Care of Magical Creatures._

_Rubeus Hagrid, who admits to being expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, has enjoyed the position of gamekeeper at the school ever since a job secured for him by Dumbledore. Last year, however, Hagrid used his mysterious influence over the headmaster to secure the additional post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher, over the heads of many better-qualified candidates._

_An alarmingly large and ferocious-looking man, Hagrid has been using his newfound authority to terrify the students in his care with a succession of horrific creatures. While Dumbledore turns a blind eye, Hagrid has maimed several pupils during a series of lessons that many admit to being_ “ _very frightening._ ” 

_“My friend Draco Malfoy was attacked by a hippogriff, and another friend of mine, Vincent Crabbe, got a bad bite off a flobberworm,” says Pansy Parkinson, a fourth-year student. “We all hate Hagrid, but we’re just too scared to say anything.”_

_Hagrid has no intention of ceasing his campaign of intimidation, however. In conversation with a Daily Prophet reporter last month, he admitted breeding creatures he has dubbed_ “ _Blast- Ended Skrewts,_ ” _highly dangerous crosses between manti-cores and fire-crabs. Pansy Parkinson admits to witnessing several students receive terrible burns from them. The creation of new breeds of magical creature is, of course, an activity usually closely observed by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Hagrid, however, considers himself to be above such petty restrictions._

“ _I was just having some fun,_ ” _he says, before hastily changing the subject. As if this were not enough, the Daily Prophet has now unearthed evidence that Hagrid is not_ — _as he has always pretended_ — _a pure-blood wizard. He is not, in fact, even pure human. His mother, we can exclusively reveal, is none other than the giantess Fridwulfa, whose whereabouts are currently unknown. Bloodthirsty and brutal, the giants brought themselves to the point of extinction by warring amongst themselves during the last century. The handful that remained joined the ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and were responsible for some of the worst mass Muggle killings of his reign of terror._

 _While many of the giants who served He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were killed by Aurors working against the Dark Side, Fridwulfa was not among them. It is possible she escaped to one of the giant communities still existing in foreign mountain ranges. If his antics during Care of Magical Creatures lessons are any guide, however, Fridwulfa_ ’ _s son appears to have inherited her brutal nature._

 _In a bizarre twist, Hagrid is reputed to have developed a close friendship with the boy who brought around You-Know-Who_ ’ _s fall from power_ — _thereby driving Hagrid_ ’ _s own mother, like the rest of You-Know-Who_ ’ _s supporters, into hiding. Perhaps Harry Potter is unaware of the unpleasant truth about his large friend_ — _but Albus Dumbledore surely has a duty to ensure that Harry Potter, along with his fellow students, is warned about the dangers of associating with part-giants._

Kit was shaking with fury when she reached the end of the article. “I can’t— she dared— I just—” She already couldn’t stand both Rita Skeeter and Pansy Parkinson, and this had just made it worse. “I’m going to punch her so hard she’ll— she’ll—”

“I’m sorry,” Draco mumbled. “If I had known, I would have stopped Parkinson from saying anything. And I would have paid Skeeter off not to publish this. I don’t particularly like Hagrid, but I know he’s not actually a bad bloke…”

“Well, no point in saying any of that, seeing as it’s already out,” Kit mumbled. It didn’t matter what Draco would have done. It hadn’t happened, and that was that. “Ugh— Parkinson is really asking for her bone structure to be rearranged—”

“You can’t beat her up, Kit Kat,” said Draco, ignoring the fact that Kit didn’t want him to call her that. “You’ll just get in trouble— they’ll hurt you worse this time—”

“I don’t care! She can’t just run her mouth! A bad bite off a flobberworm, my ass… flobberworms don’t even have teeth! They’re worms!” She lay back on the grass angrily.

Draco shifted uncomfortably beside her. “Do you er— want to play Quidditch, maybe? I um, I was remembering how I taught you to fly a broom out here.”

Kit was clearly not in the mood. She turned on her side to face away from him, wincing as she rested against a particularly large bruise on her side. Draco gazed over her back, noticing her scars clearly for the first time, along with more of the freshest bruises. He gritted his teeth audibly, making Kit frown out of confusion, as she didn’t initially know what the noise was. She turned back, and saw he looked angry.

“I’m going to talk to them about that,” Draco grumbled. “Is that why you didn’t want to dance? I thought you just felt exposed because of the dress back being open. But this… this is just—” he was practically seething, and Kit was almost touched. Did it really bother him that much that they hurt her?

“They won’t listen to you,” she whispered. “They won’t.”

“I can at least try, can’t I? I’ll say something they’ll fall for, about how I don’t want any marks on you because… er— I’m going to discipline you when we’re married… or something.”

Kit shook her head. “That’s not going to work. Trust me. Besides, I think it’s quite clear, despite your performance earlier, that neither of us want to get married to each other. They will know that something else is up. You and I could both get in trouble.”

Draco hesitated. The last thing he wanted was to get Kit in trouble. He was trying really hard to be a better person, and he didn’t want to mess it up. “I’ll do my best to be convincing,” he said at last.

When the sun began to set, the two teenagers made their way back to the Manor. Kit found that she rather enjoyed Draco’s company (when he wasn’t being a prick). She felt a blush rising in her cheeks when he opened the door for her. It was the most subtle and meaningless thing, but she wondered if maybe, he really was going to be a better person now.

They found their parents congregated in the sitting room. It seemed they’d been joking and laughing about something.

“Ah, childr— Katherine!” Alison snapped. “What have you done to the dress?”

“It ripped,” said Kit. “Not my fault.”

“It was my fault,” said Draco without missing a beat. Kit did her best to not act surprised, because that would be a dead giveaway to the fact he was lying. “I was helping her fix the er— strap and I tugged too hard.” He added an awkward chuckle. “Goes to show I don’t know shit about women’s fashion.”

That had sealed the deal. The little slightly embarrassing comment at the end made Alison withdraw an insult that Kit was sure she’d been building up. 

“How sweet of you,” said Narcissa. “But you need to learn to be more gentle, Draco, these sort of things are expensive, and charms can only do so much. Clothes like this are made by hand.”

“I’m very sorry, godfather, and godmother,” said Draco, bowing his head as Kit handed the gown to her mother. Alison pursed her lips. “Never you mind, Draco.” Her gaze moved down, and she seemed to fixate on one of the more visible bruises on Kit. 

“About those,” Draco noted, not yet sitting. Kenneth and Alison turned to him. Lucius and Narcissa seemed to become very interested in each other, almost like they were just going to let their son dig himself a hole with his more violent future in-laws. “I don’t like seeing those on her. Not from you.”

“What, would you prefer to do them yourself?” snapped Kenneth. That’s when Kit knew that Draco’s approach wasn’t going to work. Her father really wasn’t about to fall for that. She tried to shoot him a warning look, but he had already taken that as a basis.

“Yes, sir. If she’s going to be bruised and scarred, I’d rather that comes from me. If I’m her future husband, I’ll step in as I see fit.”

Draco had been convincing in Alison’s eyes. The vile woman relished in the idea of Kit being put in her place. Kit wished, however, that she could have warned Draco about what was to come.

The slap came to Draco faster than anyone had expected. Lucius flinched, and Narcissa gasped as Kenneth dropped his hand. “Don’t play me for a fool, boy,” he snarled. “No one will ever know better than her parents. You don’t get to choose when we stop disciplining her, understood? And cut the bullshit— we all know you don’t have the guts to leave a mark like that on her.”

Draco held his face. It was not his first time being slapped, but his father had never hit him that hard. Really, Lucius had only ever hit Draco once, and it was for almost knocking Narcissa down the stairs while riding his broom. Even then, Lucius’s disciplinary practices revolved around lectures that Draco despised. That was how Malfoy parenting was. Draco hadn’t been prepared for Thompson parenting. He had seen the way Kit always avoided her parents for years, he’d seen how they hit her, he’d seen the marks left behind, he’d watched her cry because of it, but never once had he felt it firsthand. He knew Kenneth Thompson had been a Quidditch Beater in the past. Draco supposed his strength hadn’t left him, not even now that he was aging.

“You.” Kit had almost forgotten that she might get in trouble as well. She was too in shock to say anything. While she had known Draco was going to get retaliation, she hadn’t been fully prepared for it. Kenneth gripped his daughter violently by the hair, making her squirm and try to swat him away. He threw her down and extracted his wand. “You put him up to this.”

“No she didn’t!” Draco said. But his voice wasn’t loud enough for Kit to hear. Her ears were ringing, her body was frozen. What would her father do to her now?

“Shut up, if you know what’s good for you,” Kenneth hissed. “You… Katherine… have been nothing but trouble. I should have done this a long time ago. CRUCIO!”

Pain. Kit wasn’t sure how to describe it, but it was pure, absolute, maddening pain. It was like every nerve in her body had been lit on fire, and she was being bombarded with every single discomfort she had ever felt in her life: from a papercut, to a stubbed toe, up to the agony she had felt when her mother had Imperioused her in the past. A scream tore out from her throat, and she writhed on the floor, her limbs shaking violently as she tried to fight it off. But it was no use— it would never be of use. Kit was hardly strong enough to withstand a beating. She would never be able to break free.

Her eyes shut. Another loud scream echoed along the walls of the manor. She couldn’t hear anything but her own yells. But from what it seemed, no one was fighting against her father. No one was making him stop. 

“You’re going to learn your lessons properly from now on,” sneered Kenneth as he let go of the curse once Kit was nearly unconscious. “It’s a Thompson trait to be exceedingly good at the Unforgivables. It should do the trick.”

Kit lay, shivering, on the floor, her eyes still closed. She heard people moving around, and she didn’t dare move. She could hardly feel her limbs. There was absolutely no way she’d be able to get up and go to her room.

When she felt strong enough to open her eyes, she looked up. The Malfoy family was gone, and so were her parents.

Had Draco even tried to do anything? Or had he just watched? Had he enjoyed it?

Kit began to sob silently. He was never going to change, was he?


	20. Chapter 20

**When she was younger, Kit thought that one day, her parents would transition to lecturing her rather than beating her.**

This was not the case. She had confided in Draco, who had said they probably would do so.

Now, as Draco forced himself downstairs to open the door, he wondered why Kit’s parents wouldn’t leave her the hell alone. 

His father had left early that morning, and his mother had elected to not leave her room. She had been quite overwhelmed when they’d arrived home last night. Now, Draco was left to answer the door.

“Blaise,” said Draco as he opened it, seeing the Zabini boy that usually never spoke to him. “What are you, er— doing here?”

“I came to ask what the hell happened,” said Blaise as Draco beckoned him in. “I went to Kit’s and her mother sent me away. Said Kit was indisposed or some bullshit like that. I know you were at her house yesterday.

Draco winced. He was still in shock. Confused. Feeling guilt and regret. Had he even finished processing what’d happened last night?

_“CRUCIO!”_

_When Kit had begun to scream, Draco had gone rigid, and shrank back in his seat. His face still stung from where his godfather had delivered a blow. But he hadn’t expected the man to turn his attention to Kit so suddenly._

_It had been the worst thing he’d ever witnessed, up to date. Kit was on the floor, screaming, and Draco was frozen, unable to say or do anything._

_The Unforgivables. Years ago, he had been fascinated with them. He had relished in the idea of power it could give someone. Knowing that his parents and colleagues were gifted in casting such curses… it was admirable._

_But this past year, his view had changed— drastically._

_Initially, when Mad-Eye Moody had shown them the curses in class, he had been fairly fine with it. Sure, it was shitty to watch an innocent spider be victim to his misplaced but educational wrath, but it had just been a demonstration— nothing too bad._

_But then, when he had watched Kit grow overwhelmed with the Imperius Curse on her… he started realizing that maybe the power of the Unforgivables shouldn’t be glorified. He knew that they were meant to do harm, but he’d only ever heard about it. Only ever read about it, too. Never seen how it could be used to break someone. He had assumed that Kit had had it used on her by her parents. He knew it was the truth, even if he didn’t know any specific details._

_From then on, in Defense, he had despised learning about the curses. He’d watched every day as Kit simply lay her head down and refused to take notes. When they’d moved to another topic, she had still not taken initiative to write down what Moody told them._

_Had it been that bad? He’d wondered. Had her parents used it on her often? Had they used other curses?_

_The night before, when he’d watched her body twitch on the floor, his questions had been answered. He had been disgusted with his godfather, who was hurting her. Disgusted with his godmother, who had watched, her face expressionless. Disgusted with his own parents, who had remained silent. Draco knew that Narcissa and Lucius would never dare interfere— Kenneth and Alison, while older, were more experienced in dark magic, and they never would have stood a chance if they fought against them._

_Draco hated himself for not doing anything. But he couldn’t move— his limbs weren’t responding to any signals he sent. He so desperately wanted to yell at Kenneth to stop hurting Kit, but what would it gain? Would Kenneth have turned the curse on Draco, then back to Kit? Would he have ignored Draco and doubled the punishment to Kit? Draco had been too terrified to do anything. He didn’t know what the outcome would be. Besides, if he had to judge based on his parents’ choice to do nothing, and the memory of Kenneth’s slap… well, the choice had unfortunately been to do nothing. Draco knew he would never beat Kenneth Thompson in a fight._

_Draco had barely been able to say anything afterward. He had tried to tell Kenneth to ‘stop’ multiple times, but his vocal chords wouldn’t form the sound. Then, Lucius had shot Draco a warning look to remain quiet. Lucius knew that Kenneth wouldn’t spare Draco if he interfered with his disciplining of his daughter._

_His mother had cried when they’d gotten home. Draco had vaguely heard his parents bickering about what they should have done, but he knew that they would have never had the guts to do anything about it._

Blaise made his way in, looking suspiciously at Draco. 

“They hurt her really bad,” said Draco quietly. “I’m guessing her punishment is being extended to lack of human interaction.” He sat down on an armchair and put his head in his hands. “She’s going to hate me.”

“Why would she hate you? Draco, seriously, what the fuck happened?”

“You can’t tell anyone— they could kill her if anyone found out.”

Blaise shifted uncomfortably. “Fine.”

“They used the Cruciatus Curse on her.”

The boy’s eyebrows shot up, practically out of his forehead. His chest puffed in anger, and Draco saw murder in his eyes. “I will kill them.” Draco wasn’t going to object to that. He’d rather like to kill Kit’s parents, too.

“Why did they do it?” Blaise asked.

“Her mother made her wear this stupid dress and Kit took it off when we went outside. She accidentally ripped it. I saw… her bruises and scars. When we went inside, I tried to encourage her parents to stop— I said some stupid shit about how I’d like to be the one to discipline her now that she was my wife. Kit said it wouldn’t work but I wanted to try. Her father… he slapped me and then he went off on Kit.”

“You shouldn’t have told her parents anything,” hissed Blaise. “Haven’t you learned how it is, by now? They will always punish Kit, even when something isn’t her fault.”

“I know!” snapped Draco, uncovering his face to look at Blaise. He looked incredibly distressed. Blaise had never seen Draco look so concerned about someone else before. “I feel bad enough! I regret trying to fix the situation and I regret not stopping her from being cursed! I couldn’t do anything! I was frozen!”

Blaise leaned back, gritting his teeth and wringing his hands together. “I guess… it was probably really overwhelming to see a person be cursed like that. While I’m annoyed with you… I know it’s not necessarily your fault that you froze. Plus, if you’d told her father to stop, he might have hurt her more. _Worse_.”

“Kit is going to hate me,” murmured Draco. “She already doesn’t trust me, she already hates the idea that we have an arranged marriage. She’ll never forgive me.”

Blaise didn’t answer immediately. He mulled things over first. Draco’s skin was crawling with anticipation of what Blaise would say. He wasn’t sure why his fellow Slytherin’s opinion was so important in the moment. Normally, he wouldn’t listen to anything Blaise Zabini had to say. 

“I don’t know what she heard or saw in those moments,” mused Blaise, “and I can’t speak for her. It will depend what she was able to process. Some part of her might have seen you not doing anything, and maybe amidst the pain, she decided you didn’t care to help her… which is clearly not what happened.”

“How do I stop her from hating me, Blaise?” said Draco desperately. “I don’t want her to hate me! I want… I want her to be my friend again. I want to make it all up to her. I want to get to know her again. Hell, I’ll sign the stupid forms to cancel our marriage as soon as I turn seventeen so my parents and hers can’t reverse anything. But I just want to be close to her again!”

Draco let out a shaky breath. “I can’t stop thinking about her. Every damn day it’s the same thing. I don’t even know how it began. I guess… I guess when we were at the Quidditch World Cup and she and I were having a blast discussing Quidditch… I just kind of realized that I missed her so much. 

“After that day, I started noticing things. How wicked smart she truly is, even when she’s being all prissy and procrastinating. How compassionate and loyal she is. Hell, I realized that honestly, she was really cute. I admired how she worded things, how she carried herself… and it just started to plague me! I couldn’t get her face out of my head. 

“I would have dreams about her. It wasn’t even anything major, sometimes it’d be something stupid like her flying a broomstick around my house to sink it into the ground because I lost a dare. Sometimes… I dreamt that I got to kiss her. It’s… so weird for me that I could form a dream like that. I haven’t ever kissed anyone. How is it I could dream something so real?

“I started to feel so unbelievably shitty. You have no idea. I never really felt guilt. Not even when Gra—er—Hermione… slapped me. I never felt bad for trying to get that hippogriff to die. I started to think that maybe I was wrong about everything. I had been stupid to let my parents teach me their vile ways.”

He paused and let out a loud sigh. He had to hand it to him, Blaise was a good listener. Sometimes, when Kit had come into the Slytherin Common Room to hang out with Blaise, Draco had noticed (from afar, of course) that while she ranted and ranted about her passions, Blaise simply listened, though engaged with his facial expressions and sometimes nods. Draco appreciated it.

“Anyway,” Draco mumbled. “I started to feel really jealous. I thought first about how only I called her ‘Kit Kat’ because when we visited America for the first time, the first candy we found at this fair we insisted on going to was called KitKat. From there, that became her nickname. I got envious that she’d tell someone that story and that someone else would call her that. I even got jealous that she told you all these secrets and things that were on her mind. I used to be that person. And I was realizing that I… wanted her back more than anything else. More than Quidditch, even when it was cancelled and I got bummed out. I wanted my Kit back as my best friend.  
  


“I got ideas. I thought, maybe I could change. Maybe I could try to be nicer. For once, I didn’t care about my reputation. Seeing her with you and Cedric… I started to get horrified that she’d go and pick someone terrible like Potter. It made me so downright furious. I thought maybe, I could become someone she deserved to be with. Kit only deserves the best… so I thought to be the best. I knew it would take time and work and lots of checking in to reverse all that I learned throughout my life, but I wanted to be with her. At that point, not even just as a friend. I realized… I fancied her.”

Blaise’s eyebrow went up, and a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, though it quickly dropped, as if he had remembered that at the moment, Kit might be in a load of pain from the aftermath of her torture session the night before.

“You fancy her,” repeated Blaise. “Or… fancied her?”

“Fancy,” affirmed Draco. “I definitely do like her. A lot.”

Blaise nodded slowly. “Continue.”

Draco rubbed his temples. “That first night I walked her to her dorm, it felt good for me, but also awkward. I’d never admit it to anyone else… and you better not rat me out… but I lost all my confidence and I forgot what I was going to say. She had left me without words. I’d found her in the Owlery and Brutus flew to her. She looked so pretty when she was with him. I blanked. I was still really rude, out of habit, and I was so panicked with what to say that it basically became like a defense mechanism. It was fulfilling, but a disaster.

“I started trying to do it more often. I got butterflies every time. I thought I was doing better, but she still seemed to be shutting me down. That’s when I started to worry. How could I expect her to trust me? She had tried to be fairly kind even when I was sometimes cruel to her, and I had always shoved her aside. When stupid Moody turned me into a ferret, she was the only one who gave enough of a shit to come and ask if I was okay. And what did I do? I yelled at her to shut up and made her leave.

“I don’t even know how to go about this. I actually… don’t mind the idea of marrying her. I thought we’d marry each other, eventually, because it made sense. Of course, I don’t want it to be forced either. I guess I thought it’d be like how my parents got together. They fell for each other. And I had heard that Alana Thompson and Rabastan Lestrange had always been very close friends, so marriage hadn’t been bad for them. How the fuck do I even reverse all the damage? I’ve scared her, made her feel inadequate, ruined her friends’ self-esteem too, and made her feel like she couldn’t be herself.”

He stopped, not knowing where to go now that he had basically spilled every dark secret about himself to Blaise. The boy opposite of him, as always, was still being a good listener.

“I guess she’ll just never forgive me,” said Draco. “Maybe I should stop trying. I can explain to her what happened last night on my end, and she’ll probably never understand it. I wouldn’t blame her. I’ve always been a bystander, I’ve never stood up when it mattered. She will never rid herself of that image of me. And now she probably feels like dying so she doesn’t have to deal with me for the rest of her life.”

Blaise crossed his arms, closing his eyes as if to think up a response. Draco squirmed anxiously. He didn’t even get this nervous in Quidditch.

“Kit has many flaws,” started Blaise. “That much, we know. No one is perfect, not even her. Keep that in mind. She is temperamental and critical. Where does she get that from? It’s all she’s ever known. And you had hurt her many times. She doesn’t let people off easily when they hurt her. It sounds generic, but she protects herself by pushing people away so they can’t hurt her by calling out her insecurities. She did try to be nice to you because she missed you. She’d never confessed that to me, but I know that every now and then, she misses you. Especially when you started talking to her more this year, it amplified that thought that’d been in the back of her head. Whatever she heard when she was being tortured… it’ll tie in with how she perceives you from how you’ve treated her in the past. She might think you didn’t care. She might get really hurt. She might not want to forgive you. But I know Kit. Tell her your side, at least. She is rational even though she can come off as insanely irrational. She’ll know you’re not lying.”

Draco nodded, and stood, breathing deeply before going to look out the window. He wasn’t sure if he was looking for anything, but he didn’t want to face Blaise anymore, now that he was being so utterly vulnerable to the boy that he’d never really gotten along with well.

“Would you help me?” whispered Draco, tracing a long finger over the window and making a small cloud to outline one he could see in the sky. It moved with the wind, and Draco gritted his teeth. He then stopped. No, this kind of behavior wasn’t going to help.

“I guess so, but this is kind of something you need to do on your own. Why don’t you talk to her when you can— but first, give her time to cool down. Don’t worry, I’ll be there for her, and she might not want to face you, either out of annoyance, anger, or embarrassment, whatever she’s feeling. But then, do approach her. Tell her your side. You don’t have to tell her how you feel, but… try and be like you are right now. Open up. You and Kit have that in common— you put up walls for people to stop yourselves from getting attached. Sure, Kit can also simultaneously be an oversharer, but you get the point. Let yourself be vulnerable. Let her see you’re being completely sincere. Then, if she takes it well, start hanging out with us more. Baby steps. In the meantime, you should try and not be so rude to any other Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Eventually, we’ll work on your distaste with Gryffindor, and finally your interactions Harry, Ron, and Hermione. I’ll do my best to guide you, because the last thing I want is for Kit to get hurt in the process while you’re actually trying to be better. But the majority of this— the hard work… that’s all you, man.”

Draco nodded his head vigorously. This, he liked. Blaise was good at coming up with plans. “I like the sound of that,” he said. “Um… thank you. I appreciate it.”

Blaise came over, and stood near Draco. “If you get to see her before we return to school… owl me. Let me know how she is.”

“Yeah, of course. I will.”

**_**

Draco attempted to do exactly what Blaise told him to do. When he got off the Hogwarts Express, he didn’t make any snarky comments. Even with Crabbe and Goyle guffawing beside him, he managed to remain silent. A Hufflepuff had ran into him, and he hadn’t shoved her aside like he normally would have. 

He didn’t see Kit on the train, however. Or on the carriages. Or at the feast. He didn’t see her until his first Care of Magical Creatures class, where he found the new Professor Grubbly Plank. He found that he missed Hagrid. He wasn’t so bad, no matter what his father and Kit’s said. 

Draco had looked across the field, ignoring the unicorns that were being presented to the giggly girls. Kit had stood out because she hadn’t approached the unicorns. His breath had hitched as he looked over her.

Physically, she looked undamaged. But the way she looked in the general direction of the unicorns, with a far away look in her eyes, Draco knew she was far from fine. Blaise was beside her, and he gave Draco a look, though what it meant, Draco didn’t know. 

“Did you see her?” Draco whispered to Blaise when they were alone in the dorm before bed. “She looked like a ghost. When did she get to Hogwarts?”

“Same day as us. It turns out, she hid in the bathroom on the train, waited until the end to leave, and walked all the way up to the school instead of taking the carriages. She never went to the feast. I asked Su about it subtly, and it seems that Kit’s acting perfectly normal around her Ravenclaw friends, made a joke how she was busy sucking face with a ghost to make up for the loss of Diggory, and had intentionally skived off the feast to not disrespect the ghost in question. Then, Terry Boot said that Kit had actually taken notes in her classes, saying that she had a nightmare that she failed all her O.W.L.s and thought to start getting her shit together. They didn’t suspect anything.”

“Um, what about Gr— Hermione. Hermione…” he paused. “What about Hermione? What did she say?”

“Kit hasn’t approached her. Hermione actually came to me after class to ask what the hell was wrong with Kit. I said I didn’t know, and she insisted it was incredibly out of character for Kit to not have gone to the Gryffindor Tower with them for homework. I guess Kit might not want to confront someone as perceptive as Hermione.”

Draco scratch the back of his head. “Well… can you subtly ask… Hermione… to talk to Kit about it? Approach her or something? Kit might open up. Then we can know what she needs. Of course, it’s Kit’s choice to tell the truth or not. As much as I want to report what happened, I know it’s ultimately up to Kit on how to approach the situation. I know she’d hate for us to handle it.”

It seemed this was a good idea. The following day, Blaise (with Draco in tow) had stopped Hermione and asked her if she could try and talk to Kit. Hermione had agreed without hesitation (albeit a bit confused as to why Draco was so close to her and not calling her a Mudblood or making faces).

“Thanks a million, Hermione,” said Blaise gratefully once Hermione announced that she’d slip into the Ravenclaw Common Room to talk to Kit, since they had private studies they’d be completely undisturbed in. “You’re an angel.”

Hermione had blushed, and cast Draco a weird look. 

Draco, however, wasn’t paying any attention to Hermione Granger. At the far end of the hallway, he saw none other than Harry Potter talking to Kit. From a distance, Kit seemed normal.

Hermione had turned, and caught the sight too. “Oh, Harry’s probably talking to her about the Tournament. He seems to prefer telling her things because she doesn’t scold him like I do.” She then turned pink. “Sorry, I don’t know why I told you that.”

Draco knew why. She had clearly seen that he was watching the interaction. “Um, thanks. I hope it is about that.”

For a second, Hermione looked like she’d been slapped, but she quickly composed herself. Draco Malfoy had just _thanked_ her? Was she in some sort of alternate universe? But the longer she looked, the more she realized. The almost forlorn look in Draco’s eyes, mixed with an almost fiery aspect despite the icy blue color of them. He was _jealous_.

“I think you should talk to her before she talks to me,” said Hermione cautiously. “That way, if she chooses to open up, she’ll probably tell me what she thinks about you.”

Draco was hardly listening. Hermione impulsively snapped her fingers in front of his face, and he flinched. “Oh. What?”

“I said you should talk to her before she talks to me. If she opens up, she’ll mention you.”

“Good idea,” murmured Draco, gazing back at Harry and Kit. Was it just his mind playing tricks, or had Harry moved closer to Kit?

Hermione was stunned beyond belief. Draco had _complimented_ her? She peered behind her, and hummed quietly, turning back to share a look with Blaise before standing in front of Draco.

“She doesn’t fancy Harry,” said Hermione once Draco looked down at her. “She likely doesn’t fancy Cedric anymore, though she’s probably still dwelling on her feelings to the situation. So go talk to her. Now.”

She hadn’t expected for Draco to make his way to Kit right when she finished speaking. 

_Comment for more :)_


	21. Chapter 21

**Kit, who had just finished talking to Harry, hadn’t expected to see Draco running her way.**

Harry had been telling her about something Cedric had said to him on the night of the Yule Ball, and he had been wondering if maybe Kit could keep watch outside the Prefect’s Bathroom while Harry tried to figure out the golden egg clue. Kit had, of course, agreed, because she would be able to distract anyone that came that way. She didn’t mind getting in trouble to let him have his time. Or, if someone reasonable came around, she would be able to convey the truth well.

Harry had departed with a wave, and Kit had leaned back against the wall, sighing to herself. She hadn’t yet told anyone how much pain she was in, how she felt conflicted on what to do in the aftermath of it all. She wasn’t planning on telling her Ravenclaw friends— ever. Su and Mimi would go crazy, and Terry and Anthony might take matters into their own hands, which was something Kit didn’t want. She wanted to decide how to go about this, if she even chose to do anything about it.

She had looked up only because she had been expecting to see Hermione, as she usually followed closely behind Harry. Kit was scared to tell Hermione. Hermione had a knack for taking matters into her own hands, what with ratting Harry out when he got the Firebolt from Sirius, and taking charge of S.P.E.W. despite severe backlash from their group. She was an independent entity and Kit didn’t want to put her in danger. If Hermione reacted negatively and did something, her parents could one, hurt Kit beyond measure once they cleared it up, and two, possibly find Hermione’s family and torture them too.

Instead, Kit had been met with the figure of Draco Malfoy.

Her first instinct had been to flinch. She was scared. She was associating him with the event that had left her aching, and just the sight of him seemed to be flaring up the pain. She was uncertain about him. Had he been okay with her being tortured, or what?

“Kit Kat,” said Draco once he got to stand in front of her. Kit noticed several students nearby were staring at them strangely. 

“What do you want?” Her voice was shaky, quiet. Her expression was grim, and Draco could see that she was nervous around him.

“To talk. Come with me, we can do this somewhere privately. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Kit, albeit afraid, chose to follow Draco. He had considered taking her hand and leading her to the place he had in mind, but he didn’t want to startle her. Kit found herself following him to the Owlery, which was typically empty at this time of day since the owls were having their lunch. 

He opened the door for her, beckoned her in, and shut it behind them. Brutus flew down from his perch immediately, choosing to go to Kit rather than Draco. The blond watched as the owl landed on her shoulder, nuzzling into the brunette’s hair in an affectionate gesture. A smile tugged at Kit’s lips as she reached a hand up to caress the owl.

“Hello, sweet prince,” whispered Kit. “How are you today?”

In response, Brutus flew in a circle around her before landing on Draco’s head. Kit’s expression became almost amused as the eagle owl leaned its head down to gaze at his owner, who tilted his own head up before playfully blowing Brutus a kiss. Brutus let out a quiet screech that sounded more like a happy trill mixed with a squeal, then flew back up to his perch.

“What do you want to talk about?” asked Kit, going to sit on one of the windowsills. Draco noticed that she winced when she straightened up, and her hand flew to hold her side as if worried that her side would split open.

“What did they do to you?” breathed Draco, momentarily forgetting what he wanted to say. 

Kit didn’t look up. “They left me alone the day after. But then, they brought me downstairs to lecture me, and I guess I showed weakness by wincing when my mother grabbed my arm. They shoved me back and I fell on one of the edges of the fireplace. The brick bruised my side badly. I’m surprised it didn’t break the skin.”

Draco gritted his teeth audibly. “Kit… I wanted to stop them. I did. I was in shock. I couldn’t form words and my parents kept looking at me to insinuate that I should keep quiet. I… was scared they’d hurt you more if I said anything. I’m sorry. It’s my fault they did that. I shouldn’t have mentioned your bruises and scars. I should have listened to you when you told me to not bring it up. I truly am sorry.”

For a long time, Kit didn’t say anything. She gazed out the window, deep in thought.

_When the third years had arrived to their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, they’d found that Professor Lupin was nowhere in sight._

_“Where is the bloke?” hummed Su as she and Kit had leaned back, not caring to extract their materials._

_As it turned out, they hadn’t even needed them. They had instead gone to the staffroom. The Ravenclaws filed in, and had taken turns facing a boggart. Funnily enough (for Kit, at least) the majority of the class had had something along the lines of failure, such as a Professor letting them know they failed, or a torn up piece of paper that made their breath hitch. Kit found it unbelievably funny, until she started getting closer to the front, watching how Stephen Cornfoot turned a creepy clown into a puddle of paint that made a funny squeaking noise. Then, Su got a pile of dead animals for hers._

_Professor Lupin had been calling everyone forward without pauses. The majority of the class was having a grand time, laughing and teasing each other about what they’d seen. Earlier, Kit had overheard that the Gryffindors had had a blast because Neville’s boggart had been Snape, and the ‘Riddikulus’ spell had left Snape in grandma's clothes._

_Kit’s skin began to crawl. In a brief pause when Mimi was trying to overcome her fear of snakes, Kit darted toward the Professor’s side. “Might I request doing this after class?” she said in one quick breath, hoping he’d say yes. “Please and thank you, with a cherry on top.”_

_While puzzled, Professor Lupin had assented. “Normally I wouldn’t allow it, as it’s a good learning experience to do it alongside your peers. But I’ll let you do it after class.”_

_As soon as everyone had been dismissed, Kit readied her wand, taking a deep breath. Professor Lupin was staring at her curiously, as if trying to figure out what she was so afraid of that she didn’t want people to know. His first assumption had been that her parents or a loved one had been killed by Voldemort or a Death Eater. Would she be seeing the face of a maniacal criminal?_

_Kit drew a deep breath just as the boggart leapt out. The girl flinched as both her parents materialized before her._

_“You never do learn, do you, stupid, worthless girl!” snarled Kenneth Thompson._

_“Waste of space,” hissed Alison in agreement. “I should have gotten rid of you when I had the chance.”_

_Kit’s hand shook violently as they drew closer and began to spat more insults at her. How the hell could she turn this into something funny? What could she do to make her parents not seem so threatening?_

_She shrank back, lowering her wand, her face pale. The boggart advanced, and Professor Lupin dove forward when he saw Kit’s hands fly up to shield her face. Behind her fingers, she saw the boggart transform into a shiny orb— like the moon. A crack of his wand, and the boggart disappeared, leaving them in silence._

_“Please don’t tell anyone,” whispered Kit in a strained voice as she trembled. “It won’t amount to anything. My father has too much power in the Ministry.”_

_Professor Lupin had looked down at her sadly, before gently helping her to sit down. “Do you want some chocolate?”_

_“No, thank you,” she said. “I just need to breathe.”_

_“I understand why you didn’t want the rest of the class to see. Kit, I really need to insist that talking to the Headmaster about this is imminent.”_

_“Trust me, he knows. So many people know, I’m sure of it. They know my parents. A lot of us Purebloods have experiences like this. Me worse than others. It won’t do any good. They’ll hurt me if they know that a Professor is really aware of what’s going on. They’ll get you sacked. And I think you already have that as a problem.”_

_Professor Lupin paused. “What do you mean?”_

_“Your boggart. But don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.” Without another word, she stood and left the room._

“I’m in a lot of pain right now,” mumbled Kit. “Emotional and physical. I don’t like to admit that. I just…” she gave a shaky sigh, her eyes welling up with tears. She sniffled and tried to swallow back a sob, before giving up and bringing her knees up to hide her face. Draco moved forward immediately, but Kit held her hand up to keep him away. “Please don’t touch me, it hurts everywhere. I don’t want to r-remember.”

“I won’t touch you, then,” said Draco, instead crouching down at her side.

“I’ll be fine,” sniffled Kit. “You can go now.”

“I’m not going to leave you here alone. I won’t talk or anything, so please don’t make me go.”

Reluctantly, Kit accepted. She let herself cry— _really_ , cry, which she hadn’t done properly in awhile. Draco yearned to pull her into his arms and comfort her, or even kiss the top of her head, but he knew he couldn’t bear to hurt her anymore. Instead, he just waited, keeping her company amidst the cooing and occasional screeching of the owls as they ate and fraternized with each other. 

When Kit felt well enough, she straightened up and wiped her eyes. Draco withdrew a cloth and handed it to her. She half smiled and took it, cleaning her face before tucking the cloth away. “I need to go,” she whispered. “Um… I appreciate you being here.”

“Anytime,” breathed Draco as Kit got up quickly and left the room.

The brunette made her way to the Gryffindor Common Room as quickly as she could, intending to wait for Hermione to admit what was going on. She had to take that risk. She thought perhaps Hermione wouldn’t be there yet, but to her surprise, the bushy haired girl was already on the armchair before the fire.

“Oh, hi,” said Kit, wringing her hands together. Hermione looked up. “Kit. I had a feeling you’d come. Do you want to go up to my dorm?”

Kit nodded, and Hermione stood, leading the way. It took some strength and patience, but once they got situated, Kit tried to calmly go through everything, starting from when the abuse began after their first year, all the way up to what her parents had done to her during the Christmas holiday.

Kit couldn’t help but notice that Hermione, just like Blasie, was a very good listener. She looked worried, but she let Kit finish before trying to respond.

“Kit, I’m really really sorry that happened to you,” whispered Hermione. She was thinking about how Blaise and Draco had insisted that she talk to Kit. With a pang in her heart, she realized that they had known for a while. Hermione suspected that Draco had known since the very beginning. Despite her inherent desire to report the situation, she understood what the two boys did: things would only get worse for Kit. Her parents had too much power to go down for child abuse. 

Kit winced. “Thank you for letting me talk to you about it. It helps.”

“I can go to the twins and ask them about some of their products… Ginny mentioned they’re planning on creating this bruise paste, but they need to figure things out. Maybe it can help, eventually.”

“I appreciate it, Hermione. I’ll think it over. I’m sure the pain will go away… eventually.”

“I will be here for you no matter what, Kit. I promise you that. I won’t do or say anything you don’t want me to say. You can always trust me with things. I won’t judge.”

Kit leaned back into Hermione’s bed. “Draco came up to me, you know. Apologized and explained he was in shock. He sat there while I cried. He looked like he cared… which was weird. I guess… he might care a little. He did stand up to my father. I wish he hadn’t, but he did.”

Hermione pursed her lips, not about to reveal that she’d been the one that encouraged Draco to talk to Kit. “He’s changing, Kit. I can see it. Lately, he isn’t being rude. Surprisingly, he didn’t put in a quote for Skeeter’s article about Hagrid. When I read it, I was confused that he wasn’t quoted. I thought he would have said something. At the Yule Ball… I caught a glimpse of you two. I heard you bickered, but the way he was looking at you, Kit… he was interested. He wanted to be there with you. I know it was a terrible thing that you had to go because of the arranged marriage… but I could tell he was enjoying your company.”

“Well, he did snap at stupid Pansy to defend me,” mused Kit, wiggling a bit. “It’s bizarre… he would seemingly get jealous around Cedric when I spoke to him or of him. Did I tell you that Draco kept taunting me that I was probably shagging Harry?”

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up, and her cheeks went pink. “Kit, I think he might like you.”

“That’s what Cedric was saying. I… I guess that I do like who Draco is becoming. He’s trying, I can see that much. But I still wonder if he’ll ever really change. I can’t trust him easily. He could be acting nice to spy for my parents, for all I know.”

“Maybe… you could give him a small chance. Don’t trust him fully, or anything, but maybe… let him keep walking you to your dorm. I assume he might not want to er— go so public yet, but maybe you’ll be able to get to know him all over again.”

Kit nodded. “I guess. I’ll see… look, honestly— and don’t you dare tell anyone— but Draco is attractive. He is. He’s all tall and fit and he is really smart, and now he’s being almost sweet. The thing is, I don’t want to marry him, I don’t really want to marry anyone, especially not by force. I don’t even know if I’d marry him back when we got along, if things were still like that. Besides, I don’t know if he actually sees me as good looking at all. He did compliment me at the Yule Ball, but I was caked in makeup, and I’d just gotten my teeth fixed. Plus, the dress helped, and that’s not even what I normally wear. His mother said he called me ‘ravishing.’ But when I’m all natural, what’ll he think? I don’t want to be with someone who has to struggle to look at me.”

“I think he finds you attractive, Kit, trust me. He started being friendlier… ish… around you before he ever saw your teeth fixed or what you looked like with makeup.”

Kit sighed, and wiggled in her seat. “I guess so.”

Hermione took her hands and squeezed them gently, which didn’t hurt Kit, to her surprise. “Give him a small chance. I think… maybe… he kind of sort of deserves it.”

“Alright… thanks, Hermione.”

That evening, Kit found herself traipsing the halls as she usually did. Now that she was walking off the pain, she found she felt a bit relieved of it. 

She rounded a corner and found Draco sitting on the floor, holding a textbook open and furiously scribbling on a parchment as if rushing to finish an assignment.

“What class is that for?” asked Kit.

He looked up, and she saw that he looked almost pleased to see her. “Oh, this is the essay on unicorns that Grubbly Plank asked us to do. I forgot it was due tomorrow.” He finished a final stroke and then folded the parchment up. 

“I can revise it for you if you want,” said Kit quietly. “Mind you, I’m a very harsh grader but I can make sure you can get a good score on it.”

She supposed maybe she shouldn’t have suggested that, because his hand was likely too tired to rewrite it once she made her corrections. “If you don’t mind, then sure,” he said. “I didn’t really read much from the book before writing it.”

Kit slowly sat down beside him and took the essay in her hands, propping it up. She grabbed his quill and began to make corrections. Draco was surprised. Her hand moved at lightning speed, marking and slashing and putting arrows for him to move things around. Her lips rubbed against each other as if she was saying something to herself in her head about it all. She made these adorable little faces that made him crack a smile.

“You’re terrible at writing essays last minute,” she said bluntly as she handed it back. “You need to work on your spelling a bit, you’re using very complex words, which is impressive, but you’re misspelling them. You missed including a lot of information, which is why you struggled to write that penultimate paragraph. You basically repeated everything. At the end, I scribbled facts for you to include, it’s straight out of the textbook.”

Well, she was certainly not holding any criticism back. He supposed it could be worse. He had seen Kit angrily snarling at her peers in the library when she was grading their essays sometimes. 

“Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate it. I’ll rewrite it in the morning so I’m forced to reread it and internalize my own corrections too.”

“Good strategy.” Kit squirmed and leaned back. “So um, are you planning on staying here much longer? No offense, I’d rather be on a couch somewhere.”

Draco was perplexed. “You want to keep hanging out with me?”

“Well… yeah. I suppose I do.”

He composed himself quickly and tucked his materials away. “We can go to the Slytherin Common Room if you’d like.”

“Sure.” Kit rolled onto her hands and knees to stand, since she still didn't have enough strength to get up in another way. She straightened up and held the wall, bringing her legs up. She swayed, and on instinct, Draco held her shoulder gently to keep her upright.

“Thanks,” Kit said quietly before following him down to the dungeons. 

They found the Common Room deserted. If they were in the Ravenclaw Common Room, there would be students everywhere. She supposed maybe the Slytherins preferred to do their homework in their dorms or in the hallway, like Draco had been.

Kit flopped onto the couch, and sighed, moving to lay down. “Your couches are much better to lay on…”

“Well, you Ravenclaws use the couches to study, so I suppose they don’t get made so soft.”

Kit let out a small laugh, and tucked a pillow under her head. “Maybe. I should get a petition up to make them more comfortable.”

“You should also have a password. It’s really easy to get in.”

“Not everyone is as smart as you, Mr. Not-A-Ravenclaw-But-Still-Got-Inside.”

“What if a smart person with bad intentions goes inside?”

“Oh, I’m _terrified_ they’ll burn the books,” she said sarcastically. “You do know the dorms there are fixed so only Ravenclaw students can go in?”

“Well, it’s still a concern,” said Draco, puffing his cheeks out. Impulsively, Kit leaned over and poked his cheek to deflate it.

Her brown eyes met his blue ones, and she felt her face heat up. It had been so easy for her to be herself around him, just now. Perhaps… there was hope.

“If you’re tired, maybe you should sleep,” recommended Draco. “You’ll be safe here, I’ll stay here in the armchair so no one bothers you. Or I could walk you back to your Common Room.”

“I think I’ll just stay here,” said Kit, curling up. “I’ll be fine.”

“I can give you some pajamas if you don’t want to sleep in robes. Or I can steal some of Blaise’s if you’re more comfortable in that, I’m sure he won’t mind, since I’ve seen him give some to you before.”

“I think maybe I should sleep in this so I can remember to shower in the morning. Thank you, though.” 

Draco nodded, and leaned back in his chair. “Well, goodnight, Kit Kat.”

Kit smiled up at him before closing her eyes. “Goodnight, Smok.”

_Smok is ‘dragon’ in Polish! Comment for more :)_


	22. Chapter 22

**When Kit woke up, she almost jumped out of her skin when she saw Draco across from her, curled up in an armchair, awake and writing an essay.**

For a moment, she had forgotten what had transpired the night. Then it flooded back to her. Their chat. Her revising his essay. Her falling asleep in the Slytherin Common Room.

“Morning,” said Draco, peering up as he scribbled furiously on the parchment. “I’m completely rewriting my essay with the corrections you gave me.”

“That’s good,” Kit murmured sleepily, rubbing her eyes before sitting up. She felt something fall off of her, and realized a blanket had been placed over her, even though she didn’t recall having put it on before going to sleep.

“You were shivering,” said Draco shyly, his cheeks tinted slightly pink. “I thought the blanket would help.” He gave a last stroke of his quill and looked over the parchment before gently tucking it into his bag.

“Thank you,” said Kit, folding the blanket and placing it beside her. She stood and stretched her arms out. “I need to go shower. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, of course,” replied Draco, his eyes shining excitedly. “I’ll see you around, Kit Kat.”

She felt a smile tug at her lips, though he likely didn’t see it due to her turning around so quickly.

The days that followed were blissfully strange for Kit. She found that in their shared classes, Draco was refraining from making insufferably condescending comments against students and teachers. Whenever they crossed paths in the halls, he’d move closer and nudge her playfully before speeding up in order to prevent her from nudging him back. Once, when she went with Blaise to the library, Draco came and sat with them. Granted, it was a more secluded area, and none of their Gryffindor pals were around, but it was definitely improvement.

Kit was feeling oddly cheerful by the time the set date of her and Harry’s venture to the Prefect’s Bathroom happened. She hadn’t taken part in the planning, since he seemed to have it down. All she knew was that her part was to keep the Marauder’s Map, make sure no one was coming, and every now and then check in with Harry to see how much longer she needed. If someone did come and she didn’t have time to warn Harry (depending who it was, of course), then she’d take the fall and let herself be given detention and led back to her Common Room.

Draco was plaguing her mind. Once Harry had gone in and Kit had gazed over the Marauder’s Map (a marvelous treasure she hadn’t had a chance to look at in such detail), she found that she had subconsciously gone to see where Draco was. She noticed he was in the Slytherin Common Room. She was surprised to see that Blaise was situated right beside him, as well as Theodore Nott. Kit found herself smiling at the thought that Blaise and Draco were seemingly getting along now. She didn’t know what brought about that change, but it was something she enjoyed seeing.

Her mind wandered, thinking that at the moment, maybe Draco was struggling with another essay, or maybe he was the one helping the others with their schoolwork. She shook the thought out of her head. She seemed to be thinking about Draco an awful lot. She felt comfortable around him again. She definitely did not trust him yet, but she had to admit that he was on a good path towards gaining her friendship again.

For a moment, Kit was so consumed in her daydreams, that she forgot she was supposed to be periodically checking the Marauder’s Map. She looked down and nearly had a heart attack when she saw someone coming toward them. However, her ‘fight or flight’ response was shut off when she realized it was Cedric.

Scratch that, her ‘fight or flight’ response was _not_ shut off. She hadn’t spoken to Cedric since the day that she told him about the arranged marriage. She had neglected even being near him out of respect for Cho. In reality, Kit found that there was no need for this, as she was reevaluating herself and realized she no longer fancied Cedric. But she knew that she shouldn’t put herself in a position to cause problems in Cedric and Cho’s relationship. Cho was her teammate and friend, and Kit didn’t want to impose herself where she shouldn’t.

Kit considered running away to avoid having any confrontation with Cedric, but by the time she decided to actually go through with it, Cedric was already in front of her.

“Kit?” asked Cedric, looking down skeptically.

“Hi,” she squeaked awkwardly, leaning back against the door of the Prefect’s Bathroom.

He gave her a weird look, but then let out a gasp. “Oh! You’re keeping watch for Harry.”

“No I’m not.” Smart, Kit, real smart. It’s so smart, it’s stupid. Obviously he knew what she was up to! He’d approached Harry after the Yule Ball!

He raised his eyebrows, and she took the opportunity to slap herself in the face. “Sorry, yes, I don’t know why I said that.”

“I get it,” said Cedric casually, as if he hadn’t witnessed the most embarrassing Kit Thompson moment of the century. “So er— how have you been?”

“I’ve been fine,” she answered. “Um, you?”

“Good too.” He leaned onto the wall beside her. “I haven’t seen you around much. Rumor is you’ve got a ghost boyfriend now?”

“That was a joke for my friends,” said Kit quickly, recalling what she’d told her friends the day they returned to mask the fact she was hiding in the train bathroom. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy, of course,” said Cedric. He knew that she was avoiding him, that wasn’t a world-class unsolvable problem. “I’m sorry, by the way. I was really dismissive of things the last time we spoke. I probably made you feel terrible when I jumped right to Cho. If you must know, I asked her because we were childhood friends and besides you, I didn’t trust anyone else to be a good date. Things… progressed from there. I’m sorry. I hope neither of us disrespected you.”

“No, don’t worry,” said Kit. “All is okay.”

“Then… why haven’t you spoken to me?”

Kit wanted to roll her eyes. Did everything have come down to explanations? Was she required to elaborate? She didn’t think so. But she supposed maybe Cedric needed to hear it. 

“Well, it’s disrespectful to Cho, in my opinion,” said Kit. “You and I seemingly had the sort of pre-relationship thing going on between us. I think it would be wrong of me to keep being friends with you because one, it might tempt you, and two, it’s going to be awkward and maybe hurtful for Cho seeing us together whilst knowing what we had. I suppose maybe you didn’t think we had anything special, but I don’t want to ruin your relationship. Really, I’m happy for you two.”

Cedric looked saddened to hear the explanation, but he understood Kit’s reasoning. “What we had was special,” he stated. “I fancied you, Kit.”

She felt a blush creep onto her cheeks, but she cleared her throat and quickly composed herself. “This just proves my point,” she said, more gently than before. “I wish things were different. But it is what it is. Please, respect my choice to stay away from you.”

“I do respect it, it’s just—” he let out a groan and covered his face. “I just don’t like it. I wish we didn’t have to stop being friends. I should have made a move earlier.”

“And if you had, what then? It would have been worse once Draco and I’s arranged marriage was announced. For now, let’s leave it at that.”

Cedric leaned over, as if to kiss her, and Kit quickly moved away. 

“I’m sorry,” said Cedric sheepishly, looking thoroughly embarrassed. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“This is exactly why I know we shouldn’t continue to be friends. I’m not going to contribute to any insecurity that Cho might be feeling now that you’re en route to becoming her boyfriend. I won’t hurt her like that, and you shouldn’t either.” She sounded almost cross, which made Cedric straighten up and move back.

“I understand,” he whispered, his eyes still holding a sad glimmer. “Thank you for explaining things to me.” He turned and left, leaving Kit to flop back against the door. 

When Harry finally came out, Kit examined the Marauder’s Map again, seeing that Filch and Mrs. Norris were in their office.

“We should be good,” said Harry, peeking over. “Yes… the only moving thing right now is Peeves, probably bouncing around in the trophy ro— what is that?”

Kit looked down to where Harry was pointing, seeing a single dot flitting around a room in the bottom left-hand corner. It read ‘Bartemius Crouch,’ and from the looks of it, he was inside Snape’s office.

“Huh?” said Kit. “Didn’t you say that Ron’s brother told you that Crouch was too sick to attend the ball?”

“That’s what he told me, yeah,” murmured Harry, taking the map and setting off toward Snape’s office.

“Harry!” hissed Kit. “Normally I don’t condone sneaking about, but it’s late, and he could be up to something dangerous! Haven’t you learned by now not to go looking for trouble? I don’t fancy getting killed!”

Kit had noticed that since the Cruciatus Curse had tainted her body, she wasn’t all that keen on going exploring. She wasn’t wandering the halls at night unless she was actually trying to get back to her Common Room. She didn’t fancy getting up to something she shouldn’t and end up finding herself in worse trouble. 

“I’ve got to know,” said Harry. “You can go back, if you want.”

Kit hesitated, but finally gave out a groan, her curiosity getting the better of her reasoning. “Fine. But if I die, I’m haunting you even after you manage to defeat Quirrel’s head tumor.”

Harry smirked, continuing forward as Kit trailed behind him. They went up the stairs quietly, though every now and then a floorboard would squeak and earn them a weird look from the portraits. Harry led them behind a tapestry and down a staircase that was a shortcut to descend two floors.

Just when Kit was getting excited thinking that maybe they’d catch Crouch in an evil act, she felt the ground disappear under her, and her leg sank right through a trick step that she wasn’t accustomed jumping over, since she didn’t use this particular staircase often. She let out a muffled squeak, her upper body falling onto Harry as she tried to hold onto something. The golden egg flew out of his hands and down the staircase with a bang. The Marauder’s Map fluttered out of his hands and slid down six steps.

“Shit!” Kit hissed as the egg hit the bottom of the staircase, burst open, and began wailing loudly in the corridor below. Harry lunged forward to wipe the Marauder’s Map clean, but just then—

“PEEVES!”

Filch. Harry leapt back and sat next to where Kit had sunk in, covering them both with the Invisibility Cloak. Kit’s heart was beating a thousand miles an hour as she heard Filch come closer.

“What’s this racket? Wake up the whole castle, will you? I’ll have you, Peeves, I’ll have you, you’ll... and what is this?”

Filch picked the egg up and closed it, making the wailing stop. Kit squirmed uncomfortably. If he thought it was Peeves, he’d surely check behind the tapestry and see the Marauder’s Map, which would show Harry and Kit right where they were.

“Egg?” Filch said quietly at the foot of the stairs. “My sweet!” Mrs. Norris was obviously with him, though Kit couldn’t see her. “This is a Triwizard clue! This belongs to a school champion! PEEVES! You’ve been stealing!”

He ripped back the tapestry. “Hiding, are you?” he said softly. “I’m coming to get you, Peeves... You’ve gone and stolen a Triwizard clue, Peeves... Dumbledore’ll have you out of here for this, you filthy, pilfering poltergeist...”

Filch started to climb the stairs, Mrs. Norris at his heels. 

“Filch? What's going on?”

Filch stopped a few steps below Harry and Kit, and turned. Snape was at the foot of the stairs. Kit was ready to die. 

“It’s Peeves, Professor,” Filch whispered malevolently. “He threw this egg down the stairs.”

Snape climbed up the stairs quickly and stopped beside Filch. “Peeves?” said Snape softly, staring at the egg in Filch’s hands. “But Peeves couldn’t get into my office...”

“This egg was in your office. Professor?”

“Of course not,” Snape snapped. “I heard banging and wailing—”

“Yes, Professor, that was the egg—”

“—I was coming to investigate—”

“—Peeves threw it. Professor—”

“—and when I passed my office, I saw that the torches were lit and a cupboard door was ajar! Somebody has been searching it!”

“But Peeves couldn’t—”

“I know he couldn’t, Filch!” Snape snapped again. “I seal my office with a spell none but a wizard could break!” Snape looked up the stairs, straight through Harry and Kit, and then down into the corridor below. “I want you to come and help me search for the intruder, Filch.”

“I—yes, Professor—but—” He paused momentarily. “The thing is, Professor, the headmaster will have to listen to me this time. Peeves has been stealing from a student, it might be my chance to get him thrown out of the castle once and for all—”

“Filch, I don’t give a damn about that wretched poltergeist; it’s my office that’s—”

Kit and Harry both nearly fainted when they saw Mad-Eye Moody limp up the stairs behind Snape and Filch. 

“Pajama party, is it?” he growled up the stairs.

“Professor Snape and I heard noises, Professor,” said Filch at once. “Peeves the Poltergeist, throwing things around as usual - and then Professor Snape discovered that someone had broken into his off—”

“Shut up!” Snape hissed to Filch.

Kit saw Moody's magical eye travel over Snape, and then, unmistakably, onto them. Harry tensed beside them, and she recalled he had casually mentioned that Moody could see through Invisibility Cloaks.

However, he didn’t act as though he had seen them. “Did I hear that correctly, Snape?” he asked slowly. “Someone broke into your office?”

“It is unimportant,” said Snape coldly.

“On the contrary,” growled Moody, “it is very important. Who’d want to break into your office?”

“A student, I daresay,” said Snape. “It has happened before. Potion ingredients have gone missing from my private store cupboard... students attempting illicit mixtures, no doubt...”

“Reckon they were after potion ingredients, eh?” said Moody. “Not hiding anything else in your office, are you?”

Snape looked furious at the accusation. “You know I’m hiding nothing, Moody,” he said in a soft and dangerous voice, “as you’ve searched my office pretty thoroughly yourself.”

Moody's face twisted into a smile. “Auror’s privilege, Snape. Dumbledore told me to keep an eye—”

“Dumbledore happens to trust me,” said Snape through clenched teeth. “I refuse to believe that he gave you orders to search my office!”

“Course Dumbledore trusts you,” growled Moody. “He’s a trusting man, isn’t he? Believes in second chances. But me— I say there are spots that don’t come off, Snape. Spots that never come off, d’you know what I mean?”

Snape suddenly seized his left forearm convulsively with his right hand, as though it had hurt him. Kit tensed. She had seen her father and mother do something similar several times. Randomly clutching their left forearms. Kit felt a sickening pit in her stomach. That’s why they got along with Snape. They all had a Dark Mark. They were all Death Eaters.

Moody laughed. “Get back to bed, Snape.”

“You don’t have the authority to send me anywhere!” Snape hissed, letting go of his arm as though angry with himself. “I have as much right to prowl this school after dark as you do!”

“Prowl away,” said Moody, but his voice was full of menace. “I look forward to meeting you in a dark corridor some time... You’ve dropped something, by the way...”

Kit wanted to scream as Moody motioned to the Marauder’s Map. Harry raised his arms and waved furiously at Moody. Kit held the ends of the cloak down to make sure he didn’t throw it off of them completely. 

Snape’s expression became gleeful as he reached for the parchment. But then, the map flew right into Moody’s hand. 

“My mistake,” Moody said calmly. “It’s mine— must’ve dropped it earlier—”

But Snape’s black eyes were darting from the egg in Filch’s arms to the map in Moodys hand.

“Potter,” he said quietly.

“What’s that?” said Moody calmly, folding up the map and pocketing it.

“Potter!” Snape snarled. “That egg is Potters egg. That piece of parchment belongs to Potter. I have seen it before, I recognize it! Potter is here! Potter, in his Invisibility Cloak!”

Snape stretched out his hands and began to move up the stairs. Harry and Kit leaned backward, trying to avoid Snapes fingertips—

“There’s nothing there, Snape!” barked Moody, “but I’ll be happy to tell the headmaster how quickly your mind jumped to Harry Potter!”

“Meaning what?” Snape turned again to look at Moody, his hands still outstretched, inches from Harry’s chest. Kit had to resist the sudden and inexplicable urge to sneeze.

“Meaning that Dumbledore’s very interested to know who’s got it in for that boy!” said Moody, limping nearer still to the foot of the stairs. “And so am I, Snape... very interested...” 

There was a pause when Snape simply stared back at Moody. Kit’s heart was just about ready to burst, and her nose itched terribly. 

“I merely thought,” said Snape, in a voice of forced calm, “that if Potter was wandering around after hours again... it’s an unfortunate habit of his... he should be stopped. For— for his own safety.”

“Ah, I see,” said Moody softly. “Got Potter’s best interests at heart, have you?”

There was a pause. Snape and Moody were still staring at each other, Mrs. Norris gave a loud meow, still peering around Filch’s legs, looking for the source of Harry’s bubble-bath smell, which was probably what’d made Kit need to sneeze in the first place.

“I think I will go back to bed,” Snape said curtly.

“Best idea you’ve had all night,” said Moody. “Now, Filch, if you’ll just give me that egg-”

“No!” said Filch, clutching the egg. “Professor Moody, this is evidence of Peeves’ treachery!”

“It’s the property of the champion he stole it from,” said Moody. “Hand it over, now.”

Snape swept downstairs and passed Moody without another word. Filch handed Moody the egg and disappeared from view too, muttering to Mrs. Norris. “Never mind my sweet... we’ll see Dumbledore in the morning... tell him what Peeves was up to...”

A door slammed. Harry was left staring down at Moody, who placed his staff on the bottommost stair and started to climb laboriously toward him, a dull clunk on every other step.

“Close shave Potter and Thompson,” he muttered. Kit finally sneezed as Harry weakly thanked Moody, then stood to help Kit up. 

“What is this thing?” said Moody, drawing the Marauder’s Map out of his pocket and unfolding it.

“Map of Hogwarts,” said Harry. Kit wished Harry could have wiped the map. Something about how Moody was looking at the map was unsettling her. 

“Merlins beard,” Moody whispered, his magical eye going haywire. “This... this is some map. Potter!”

“Yeah, it’s... quite useful,” Harry said, as if worried that Moody was going to get him in trouble for having the map. 

“Potter...” Moody said slowly, “you didn’t happen, by any chance, to see who broke into Snapes office, did you? On this map, I mean?”

“Er... yeah, I did...” Harry admitted. “It was Mr. Crouch.”

Moodys magical eye whizzed over the entire surface of the map. He looked suddenly alarmed, and Kit felt even more uncomfortable. Why was he looking so scared of Crouch? Surely Moody was a much stronger wizard than him. 

“Crouch?” he said. “You’re— you’re sure Potter?”

“Positive,” said Harry.

“Well, he’s not here anymore,” said Moody, his eye still whizzing over the map. “Crouch... that’s very—very interesting...”

He said nothing for almost a minute, still staring at the map. 

“Er... Professor Moody…” said Kit cautiously, feeling her skin crawling. “Why d’you reckon Mr. Crouch wanted to look around Snapes office?”

Moodys magical eye left the map and fixed, quivering, upon Kit. It was a penetrating glare, and Kit had the impression that Moody was sizing her up, wondering whether to answer or not, or how much to tell her. For a moment, his lips twitched as if to smirk, but it reverted back to a frown so quickly that Kit thought she imagined it. 

“Put it this way, Thompson,” Moody muttered finally, “they say old Mad-Eye’s obsessed with catching Dark wizards... but I’m nothing— nothing— compared to Barty Crouch.”

“Professor Moody?” asked Harry. “D’you think... could this have anything to do with... maybe Mr. Crouch thinks there’s something going on...”

“Like what?” said Moody sharply.

“I don’t know,” Harry muttered, “odd stuffs been happening lately, hasn’t it? It’s been in the Daily Prophet... the Dark Mark at the World Cup, and the Death Eaters and everything...”

Both of Moody’s mismatched eyes widened. Kit felt like leaving the situation as soon as possible. One, Moody probably knew that her parents were some of those Death Eaters. Two, his normal eye kept flickering back to her as if he knew something she didn’t.

“You’re a sharp boy. Potter,” he said. His magical eye roved back to the Marauder’s Map. “Crouch could be thinking along those lines,” he said slowly. “Very possible... there have been some funny rumors flying around lately— helped along by Rita Skeeter, of course. It’s making a lot of people nervous, I reckon.” A grim smile twisted his lopsided mouth. “Oh if there’s one thing I hate,” he muttered, more to himself than to Harry, and his magical eye was fixed on the left-hand corner of the map, “it's a Death Eater who walked free...”

Kit took a very tiny step back. He was looking at her again, and the twisted smile was staying this time. 

“And now I want to ask you a question Potter,” said Moody in a more businesslike tone, turning to face Harry. “Can I borrow this?” 

“Oh!” said Harry. Kit wanted to tell him not to say yes, to tell him that everything about this felt wrong, but Harry simply said: “Yeah, okay.”

“Good boy,” growled Moody. “I can make good use of this... this might be exactly what I’ve been looking for... Right, bed, Potter and Thompson, come on, now...”

Moody walked with them to the top of the stairs, limping between them. Kit could feel him staring at her through his peripheral vision (or whatever was left of it). She crossed her arms and kept her eyes downcast.

“You ever thought of a career as an Auror, Potter?” huffed Moody.

“No,” said Harry, taken aback.

“You want to consider it,” said Moody, nodding and looking at Harry thoughtfully. “Yes, indeed... and incidentally... I’m guessing you weren't just taking that egg for a walk tonight?”

“Er— no,” said Harry, grinning. “I’ve been working out the clue.”

Moody winked at him, his magical eye going haywire again. “Nothing like a nighttime stroll to give you ideas, Potter... come with me, Thompson, I’ll walk you back to your rightful Common Room.”

“Um,” said Kit, “I’d rather—”

But by then, he’d taken her shoulder and led her away. She peeked back to where Harry had gone ahead, not suspecting anything.

Kit moved away, but Moody gripped her shoulder hard. “Your parents,” he began slowly. “They still around?”

“Um… yes,” she answered timidly. She wanted to run, to hide, but he was holding her shoulder really tightly…

“Do they still have their marks?”

Her forehead beaded with sweat. “I-I don’t know…”

“Oh, you know,” he said lowly. For a moment, his voice sounded different. Not so gruff and old. It was a weird observation, but he almost _sounded_ younger. “They’re still the same as always, eh? Using their curses for power... the Thompsons and Smiths were always good at their Unforgivables, you know, they developed newer and more dangerous forms of them...” 

“I—”

“Don’t lie to me, Katherine,” hissed Moody, turning her to face him. She gulped, her eyes wide. He looked angry. He had mentioned he hated Death Eaters who walked free. “I’ve known them for a long time....”

“H-Hurting me won’t do anything,” she stuttered, thinking he was trying to take his anger at them out on her. 

He let out an almost cruel chuckle. “I know that.” She felt her eyes begin to well up with tears. What was he playing at? What did he want with her? 

Before she could process what to do, she realized the tip of his wand was pressed against her throat. She let out a small squeak, her eyes closing as she gulped. Tears ran down her cheeks, rolling onto her neck and dribbling over his wand. 

“Did you tell them what you saw in the forest?” he sneered. “At the Quidditch Cup?”

Kit shook her head, but when he pressed his wand harder into her throat, she let out a soft sob. “Y-Yes! I d-didn’t mean— I-I just—”

“Shut up,” he hissed, glaring down at her. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to keep quiet about this. I need to figure some things out, and I don’t want you telling absolutely anyone. Otherwise… well, that little Mudblood friend of yours will suffer… as will your other friends. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-Yes!” choked Kit, holding back another sob as he let her go. 

“I’m serious, Katherine,” he snarled. “One peep out of you and they’ll get that same Cruciatus pain… hmm? And maybe you’ll get another taste of it too....”

He limped away without another word, leaving Kit to collapse on the floor, trying to process what had just happened.

_Thoughts? :0_


	23. Chapter 23

**Kit wasn’t sure how she managed to get to her bed that night.**

She wasn’t sure how she managed to pretend everything was fine the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that.

She could still feel his wand pressed menacingly on her neck. She could still feel the evil gaze he’d had, and the tight grip on her shoulder.

Would anyone believe her if she said anything? She had seen Quirrell slip past Dumbledore, and Lockhart had been let in as if nothing was sketchy about him. If she owled her parents, would they care? Would they take her words into consideration, or would they send her back a hateful letter with a threat?

As she woke up the day of the second task for the Triwizard Tournament, the questions were still swirling around her head. She had acted as normal as she could around Hermione, Ron, Harry, Su, Blaise, Draco, and everyone else. No one suspected a thing.  
  
But she felt terrified. Exposed. Vulnerable. Before, she might have gone and told on Moody fearlessly, even if it brought her trouble. But her core still stung from where the Cruciatus Curse had hit her, and the memory of Moody towering over her was enough to make her truly believe that her words and experiences didn’t matter. Her feelings were irrelevant, and she shouldn’t be weak and overwhelmed by this. Either way, her friends were in the mix after Moody’s threat, and the last thing she wanted was for him to hurt them.

So she remained silent. She sat, staring over the water, wriggling her hands in her lap as she waited for the champions to return. Even when they did, she hardly paid attention. She was desensitized to the excitement flooding around her. All she could think was that she needed to stay quiet.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision.”

Ludo Bagman’s booming voice made her flinch. She realized everyone around her was standing up, waiting for him to announce how many points each champion was going to receive. Slowly, Kit stood, though she wasn’t sure how she managed it. Her body was moving on its own, as if forcing her to keep being human, keep being alive, even though her mind was making her wonder if perhaps she deserved the cruel treatment from Moody. Maybe she was just too terrible of a person to be left alone.

“Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows…”

Kit’s ears perked up, and for a moment, the clouds in her mind dissipated.

“Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points.”

Applause from the stands. Kit’s hands moved on their own. She wasn’t sure why she was clapping. It didn’t make sense in that moment. 

“Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour. We therefore award him forty-seven points.”

“Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points.”

“Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect,” Bagman continued. “He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own.”

“Most of the judges,” and here, Bagman gave Karkaroff a very nasty look, “feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However... Mr. Potter’s score is forty-five points.”

Kit could hear Hermione and Ron’s distinct voices in the crowd, but she wasn’t anywhere near them to know what they were saying. She felt herself sway. She looked over to where they were, but rather than fixating her eyes on them, she found that they wandered over to where Mad-Eye Moody was standing, staring right at her.

Her body went rigid. Whatever announcement Ludo Bagman was making was left in the background, an obnoxious ringing noise in her ears. Moody was glaring at her as if trying to see into her mind. She could have sworn he smirked, as if relishing in the fact he had intimidated her to the point where she was hardly present in any situation. Did he know that he was making her mind go into a frenzy trying to figure things out while also battling against Kit’s natural impulses to speak out? She wished dearly that she could understand what was happening with her, why the words weren’t coming out when they should, why she was so scared.

As she forced herself to look away, she felt embarrassed. How easy had it been for him to intimidate her? How stupid must she have looked, curled up in the hallway during the aftermath? Moody had probably had a good laugh. Maybe Kit really was as incompetent as her parents made her out to be.

She wasn’t sure how her body carried her away from the stands that day, but next thing she was aware of, she was alone in a hallway, sitting on the floor, and staring at the wall opposite her, with her knees tucked into her chest. 

Kit was having an incredibly difficult time processing it. She kept running it over in her head. Just when she thought she understood what had transpired, she realized she truly didn’t understand it. Why had he chosen her? Why had he threatened her like that? Why had he said he’d hurt her friends if she didn’t keep quiet?

She kept going back to the idea of whether anyone would believe her. Would they just make fun of her for having been out at night and having run into Moody? Would they tell her that maybe she shouldn’t believe what a crazy man like him said? Would they tell her that she must have imagined it?

Every day that she had been in Defense Against the Dark Arts, she asked herself the last question over and over. Moody had acted so normal. Now, he had stared at her. Was any of it real? Was she just being stupid?

She certainly felt stupid. She should have fought back against his grip. But then, would he have cursed her? Would he have hurt her friends right away? She hated herself for freezing up, for letting him get a hold of her so easily. She wished her body had fought back. 

Kit felt beyond vulnerable as she rested her head down on her knees. She felt as though Moody had publicly humiliated her and she was never going to recover from it. He had made her cry. She felt weak for crying because of him. Now, it was like he had power over her life. He would hurt her and her friends if she told. 

And what if she owled her parents? Would they think she was lying, too? Would they think she was just causing trouble? Would they force her to move to another school, or something?

She let out a small sob, her limbs shaking. She hated this feeling of not knowing, of fear that something would go terribly wrong. She wanted so badly to tell someone, to get this sorted out, but she didn’t know if their response would be what she wanted or needed.

Kit choked, whimpering as she reached her hands up to cover her face. She felt exposed and so utterly inadequate. She recalled what she saw every day in the mirror, and she was disappointed. She felt so wretched and stupid.

Her mind wandered to Cedric. He said he fancied her. But did he? Kit felt like he was lying. How could he ever like someone who looked like her? Who was as weak as her?

She felt jealous of Cho and Cedric, she felt angry that she was jealous, and overall, she was confused as to why she felt this when she didn’t fancy Cedric anymore.

The image of Draco reappeared in her head, and her body shook, bringing more tears and sobs out of her. She wished he had never ignored her in the first place. Why couldn’t they have just stayed friends? Why had he abandoned her?

She hated how forced their stupid arranged marriage was. She didn’t know if she even wanted to get married. Neither of them wanted it, and if it went through, they might have tension between them forever. 

And what if he didn’t actually care for her? Her mind was wandering to dangerous places. He might just insult her all the time in the future. He might just use her. 

_“He’s getting the worst end of this deal, mind you,” her mother had hissed. “I bet when you’re married, he’ll have several mistresses around in order to feel some sort of pleasure. Something you’ll never be able to give him. You’re too inadequate for him.”_

Was she right? Would Draco tire of her before anything begun? Would he ever truly care for her or would any act seeming like it be a facade? Love couldn’t be forced. And even if it hadn’t been forced, could someone like Draco love someone like her? It was unfathomable. Perhaps they could be friends again, but she doubted he’d ever love her. 

She hated herself. She hated her parents. She hated Moody. She wanted to run, to leave, to never have to remember any of this. Could she obliviate herself successfully? Could she forget everything and escape the harsh reality of her life? Could she change her identity?

Kit heard footsteps and tensed, though she calmed when the person sat beside her. Anyone she didn’t know would have walked past. This must be someone she knew. She let herself continue crying. The silence confirmed her suspicion: it was Blaise. He knew to just sit nearby and let her calm down before urging her to talk. She loved that about him. He knew how to listen, to be present and engaged without needing to force a conversation with someone who was emotionally indisposed.

Moody. Her parents. Draco. Cedric. Cho. Everything. Her sobs became louder, and she let her body lean over. An arm wrapped around her, and she curled into Blaise, until an inhale for fresh air led her to realize that this, in fact, could not be Blaise, because Blaise’s cologne did not smell like that.

She looked up, seeing none other than Draco. How had he found her?

Wordlessly, he pulled out a handkerchief and reached over to dry her eyes, dabbing gently to clean the tears away. He tucked it into her hand when he was done, as if gesturing that she should use it. She faced away as she blew her nose, then pulled her robes up to cover her face.

“You don’t have to say anything,” whispered Draco gently. “But I have noticed that something’s been off about you. So… if you want to talk, I’m here.”

She wanted to tell him so badly. She wanted to blurt out what Moody had said and done. She wanted to beg him to keep her safe from whatever transpired after that. She wanted to tell him every last concern she had about their stupid arranged marriage. She wanted to admit what she felt about Cedric and Cho. 

But she couldn’t. What would happen if she did? Would she ruin things? Would Hermione and others get hurt?

Kit remained silent and simply leaned onto him again, just needing to be held. To her surprise, Draco didn’t urge her to speak. He simply wrapped his arms around her again, pulling her in. She grasped his shirt collar, sobbing again and burying her face in his chest.

**_**

As March came around, Kit found herself calming down slightly, but not enough to ease the constant edgy feeling she had whenever she saw Moody, or whenever her mind wandered enough to think of what’d happened.

She had forced herself to think of other things. Lately, Draco kept challenging her to Wizard’s Chess whenever they were together (which still only occurred when no one was around to see). No matter how many times Kit tried to explain that she was terrible at Wizard’s Chess, Draco kept insisting they play (probably because he would win).

“It doesn’t make sense to me!” he laughed one night in the Slytherin Common Room. Blaise was passed out on the floor after having finished an essay he’d procrastinated on. “You’re a Ravenclaw! Not to mention one of the smartest Ravenclaws! How can you be bad at Wizard’s Chess?”

“Not all of us are gifted like that!” whined Kit. “I can’t focus enough and I’m too impulsive. If you want a good opponent, go chat up Ron!”

Draco, to her surprise, didn’t make a snide comment, but he did brush it off. “Eh. Come on, just move a piece!”

Despite his insistence to get her to play, she had to admit that the greatest factor in her slow recovery from what she considered a mild trauma (she still kept making it seem less severe than it was because she felt so bad about it). He seemed to be the only one who knew what kind of thing was going on. He knew someone had hurt her, perhaps not as badly as they could have, but bad enough that she had been breaking down before his eyes. Kit acted so normally around everyone else, that no one had picked up on her previously odd behavior yet. 

One afternoon, Kit was making her way to Potions with Hermione, Harry, and Ron. Blaise and Draco had gone ahead because apparently Draco had forgotten one of his planning sheets for the class, and Blaise was going to accompany him. 

As it turned out, Sirius had sent a letter, asking the trio and Kit to meet him in Hogsmeade with food.

“He hasn’t come back to Hogsmeade?” said Ron incredulously. “It looks like it, doesn’t it?” said Hermione.

“I can’t believe him,” said Harry tensely, “if he’s caught...”

“Made it so far, though, hasn’t he?” said Ron. “And it’s not like the place is swarming with dementors anymore.”

Harry folded up the letter, and Kit wrung her hands together. “I’m sure it will be okay. I can always cause a distraction if it’s necessary…” she trailed up, looking up and seeing Pansy Parkinson with her usual gang of Slytherin girls. They were huddled and staring at something, sniggering heartily. Even Millicent Bulstrode was laughing. 

“There they are, there they are!” Pansy giggled once she saw them approaching. She held up a copy of Witch Weekly. “You might find something to interest you in there, Granger!” Pansy said loudly, and she threw the magazine at Hermione, who caught it, looking startled. At that moment, the dungeon door opened, and Snape beckoned them all inside.

Kit followed the trio to their table at the back of the dungeon. Draco and Blaise weren’t back yet, and she wanted to see what the Slytherins had been laughing at. 

Hermione hastily rifled through the magazine under the desk. At last, in the center pages, Hermione found what they were looking for. A color photograph of Harry headed a short piece entitled:

**Harry Potter’s Secret Heartache**

_A boy like no other, perhaps— yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss._

_Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys’ affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has “never felt this way about any other girl.”_

_However, it might not be Miss Granger’s doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys’ interest._

_“She’s really ugly,” says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, “but she’d be well up to making a Love Potion, she’s quite brainy. I think that’s how she’s doing it.”_

_Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter’s well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate._

“That bitch!” whispered Kit, her eyes wide.

“I told you!” Ron hissed at Hermione. “I told you not to annoy Rita Skeeter! She’s made you out to be some sort of—of scarlet woman!”

Hermione stopped looking astonished and snorted with laughter. “Scarlet woman?” 

“It’s what my mum calls them,” Ron muttered, his ears going red.

“If that’s the best Rita can do, she’s losing her touch,” said Hermione, still giggling, as she threw Witch Weekly onto the empty chair beside her. “What a pile of old rubbish.”

She looked over at the Slytherins, who were all watching her and Harry closely across the room to see if they had been upset by the article. Hermione gave them a sarcastic smile and a wave, and she, Harry, and Ron started unpacking the ingredients they would need for their Wit- Sharpening Potion. Kit decided to remain with them even after Draco and Blaise filed in late. Snape, of course, didn’t get them in trouble.

“There’s something funny, though,” said Hermione ten minutes later, as Kit used her pestle to crush her scarab beetles. “How could Rita Skeeter have known...?”

“Known what?” said Ron quickly. “You haven’t been mixing up Love Potions, have you?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Hermione snapped. “No, it’s just... how did she know Viktor asked me to visit him over the summer?”

Hermione blushed scarlet. Kit smirked. “What?” said Ron, dropping his pestle with a loud clunk.

“He asked me right after he’d pulled me out of the lake,” Hermione muttered. “After he’d got rid of his shark’s head. Madam Pomfrey gave us both blankets and then he sort of pulled me away from the judges so they wouldn’t hear, and he said, if I wasn’t doing anything over the summer, would I like to—”

“And what did you say?” said Ron eagerly, as though nothing was more important than her answer.

“And he did say he’d never felt the same way about anyone else,” Hermione went on, going almost crimson red, “but how could Rita Skeeter have heard him? She wasn’t there... or was she? Maybe she has got an Invisibility Cloak; maybe she sneaked onto the grounds to watch the second task...”

“And what did you say?” Ron repeated, pounding his pestle down on the desk. Kit moved his hand so the pestle was in the bowl. 

“Well, I was too busy seeing whether you and Harry were okay to—”

“Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is Miss Granger,” said an icy voice right behind them, and all four of them jumped, “I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor and ten points from Ravenclaw.”

Kit wanted to retort about how unfair this was, but when she looked up, she noticed Draco casting her a warning look, as if urging her not to snap. 

“Ah... reading magazines under the table as well?” Snape added, snatching up the copy of Witch Weekly. “A further ten points from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw... oh but of course...” Snape's black eyes glittered as they fell on Rita Skeeter’s article. “Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings...” He began to read the article out loud. “‘Harry Potter’s Secret Heartache... dear, dear. Potter, what’s ailing you now? ‘A boy like no other, perhaps...’”

Harry and Hermione were both so red that Kit thought they were bleeding. She was gritting her teeth hard as Pansy and her gang laughed maliciously. Blaise and Draco were confused, as they hadn’t been around them earlier to know what the contents of the article were.

“‘... Harry Potter’s well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate.’ How very touching,” sneered Snape, rolling up the magazine once he was finished. “Well, I think I had better separate the three of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than on your tangled love lives. Weasley, you stay here. Miss Granger, over there, beside Miss Parkinson. Potter— that table in front of my desk. Thompson… where should we put you? You manage to be obnoxious and disruptive anywhere and everywhere… fine, beside Potter, so I can have my eyes on both of you. Move. Now.”

Harry and Kit moved, albeit furiously, and kept making their potion. Kit could feel her fingers twitching. What would it feel like to punch Snape?

“All this press attention seems to have inflated your already over-large head Potter,” said Snape quietly to Harry, once the rest of the class had settled down again. Kit gritted her teeth and stirred her potion, hoping Harry wouldn’t lose his head over this. 

“You might be laboring under the delusion that the entire wizarding world is impressed with you,” Snape went on, “but I don’t care how many times your picture appears in the papers. To me Potter, you are nothing but a nasty little boy who considers rules to be beneath him.”

Kit felt her legs almost aching from how hard she was pressing her feet against the floor to keep herself grounded. Harry had grinded down his scarab beetles so much that they were a fine powder at that point.

“So I give you fair warning, Potter,” Snape continued in a sorter and more dangerous voice, “pint-sized celebrity or not— if I catch you breaking into my office one more time—”

“I haven’t been anywhere near your office!” said Harry angrily, forgetting his feigned deafness.

“Don’t lie to me,” Snape hissed, his fathomless black eyes boring into Harrys. “Boomslang skin. Gillyweed. Both come from my private stores, and I know who stole them.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry said coldly.

“You were out of bed on the night my office was broken into!” Snape hissed. “I know it Potter! Now, Mad-Eye Moody might have joined your fan club, but I will not tolerate your behavior! One more nighttime stroll into my office, Potter, and you will pay!”

“Right,” said Harry coolly, turning back to his ginger roots. “I’ll bear that in mind if I ever get the urge to go in there.”

Snape’s eyes flashed. He plunged a hand into the inside of his black robes. Kit thought he was going to extract his wand and blast Harry into oblivion. Instead, Snape had drawn out a small crystal bottle of a completely clear potion. Harry stared at it.

“Do you know what this is Potter?” Snape said, his eyes glittering dangerously again. 

“No,” said Harry.

“It is Veritaserum— a Truth Potion so powerful that three drops would have you spilling your innermost secrets for this entire class to hear,” said Snape viciously. “Now, the use of this potion is controlled by very strict Ministry guidelines. But unless you watch your step, you might just find that my hand slips” — he shook the crystal bottle slightly— “right over your evening pumpkin juice. And then Potter... then we’ll find out whether you’ve been in my office or not.”

“It was me.”

The words came out of Kit’s mouth before she could process the fact that it was a terrible idea to say that.

Snape turned to her, his eyes fiery. “One of them finally confesses,” he hissed lowly. “You were out of bed too, then, Thompson? I should have known… you’re nothing but a vile, spineless brat. No wonder your parents are so disappointed in you.”

And with that, all the anger, confusion, exhaustion, anxiety, and hurt that Kit had been feeling came spilling out. 

She swiped her hand across the desk, tossing her cauldron to the floor, the liquid inside spilling over Snape’s feet.

“SHUT UP!” she screamed, making the entire class go dead silent. “SHUT UP! I AM SICK AND FUCKING TIRED OF YOU THINKING YOU GET TO JUST TREAT PEOPLE LIKE THIS!” she stomped her foot, grabbed Harry’s pestle, and threw it, purposely making it sail right past Snape’s face, so it hit the blackboard behind him. “Why the hell are you such a heartless DICK?” Kit snarled, her breathing unsteady, and her hands shaking. “Pour the Veritaserum in my mouth, huh, Snape? I don’t care what these people hear. You know what they’ll find out? That neither Harry or I broke into your office! They’ll find out who you really are, just you wait, I know things that would get you the biggest scandal that any Hogwarts Professor has ever had! I’ll make sure you—”

“One hundred points from Ravenclaw!” Snape seethed, his eyes and hands twitching as if he considered backhanding Kit into another galaxy. “Get out of my classroom. Right now. RIGHT NOW, Thompson, before I call Mad-Eye Moody to extract you!”

Now, it really felt like Kit had been slapped. She felt her body go incredibly rigid. Her muscles stopped working. She swayed, and for a minute, Snape’s gaze was almost confused, as if he hadn’t expected her to look so terrified at the prospect of being removed by his fellow Professor. 

“Thompson,” Snape repeated in a dangerous voice when she didn’t move. “I said to get out.”

But she couldn’t move. She could scarcely breathe. She let out a shaky sigh, her body careening over so Harry had to catch her. To her surprise, she felt another two pairs of arms around her. She looked down and saw Blaise’s hand grasping hers and pulling her forward. Everything was spinning as he dragged her out. Someone closed the door behind her, and next thing, Draco was crouching in front of her.

“Kit?” he asked frantically. “Kit Kat? What’s wrong?”

His voice was a million miles away when she collapsed onto him.

_Comment for more >:)_


	24. Chapter 24

**The lights were too bright for Kit by the time she was able to open her eyes.**

She turned sideways and saw none other than Draco Malfoy sitting on the chair beside her bed, holding a book open upside down.

“Draco?” groaned Kit. “What are you doing?”

He dropped the book out of surprise, looking very embarrassed. His pale cheeks had turned bright pink. “I was um…” he paused, then finished more quietly: “I was trying to read the words upside down because I was bored.”

Kit let out a quiet chuckle, before sitting up. She felt slightly nauseous, which wasn’t too surprising. She had a bit of a headache, but that was expected. “So um, I’m guessing I’m the talk of the school now.” She felt oddly calm at the moment, but she knew it would only be a matter of time before she felt like shit again.

“Well, they’re confused and curious,” said Draco, albeit hesitantly. “Don’t worry, they just think you had a panic attack out of anger at Snape for taking all those points off. I don’t think they suspect anything.”

Kit felt herself tense. She looked away from him, and the blond simply moved to sit on the bed, so that she could face him.

“It’s Moody, isn’t it?” whispered Draco, his eyes saddened but blazing almost angrily. “What did he do to you?”

The Ravenclaw shook her head immediately, closing her eyes. “Can’t tell you,” she said immediately, the words rolling off her tongue as if rehearsed. Perhaps, they were technically rehearsed, as she had spent the past months reminding herself to keep quiet about what had happened.

She expected Draco to let out some sort of exasperated sigh, but instead, he shifted on the bed. “If he did hurt you,” he began quietly, “I think I should owl my father to open a claim. Your father doesn’t need to know unless it… ends up being very serious.”

“Please, don’t owl anyone, don’t say anything to anyone, especially not him,” implored Kit, not even wanting to say the vile man’s name. Draco was astonished with how scared she looked. Had Moody tortured her? Had he violated her?

“Kit, I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to, but you know that you can still tell me if something is bothering you, right? He did something to you. I know that much. And whatever it was… it’s not right. Please, just keep in mind that you can tell me anything.”

“Not when people’s lives are at stake,” she said, shaking her head. “If I tell you… you’ll go back on your word. You’ll tell your father, and he’ll tell mine.”

“I wouldn’t go back on my word—”

“I know you will,” she insisted. “This kind of thing isn’t something you’d be able to keep quiet, Draco. You won’t resist telling your father or mine. People could get hurt.”

“People could get hurt? Kit, I don’t care about other people, I—I care about _you_!” said Draco.

Kit flushed, but didn’t stand down. “The problem is I care about others. It’s not about you. Draco, seriously, this is dangerous. Don’t pry into it. If I choose to speak, it will be my choice. I don’t want to be responsible for my friends being harmed. Listen to me…”

Draco’s jaw twitched, and Kit saw him balling up his fists. He didn’t want to let this subject go. Even knowing that Moody had something to do with how distraught Kit had been, Draco felt murderous. He wished for the power of the three Unforgivable Curses to bring them down on the stupid, limpy, blind, and ugly Professor that he had distrusted even before he had turned him into a ferret and humiliated him. Did the man have a vendetta against Malfoys and Thompsons? Was that it? Was he aiming to hurt Kit thinking that her parents would even be fazed by it? 

He supposed she was right about him possibly going back on his word. If it was as serious as he was thinking… well, before owling his father, he’d certainly finish fucking up Moody’s face and body until all that remained was a shriveled worm…

“Draco?”

He didn’t realize he’d zoned out until his face was tilted up by Kit’s delicate hand. He looked into her beautiful, but troubled and saddened brown eyes, and his heart ached, his chest burning at the prospect of not being able to find out what was ailing her. He wanted so badly to help her, but that was not what she wanted.

“Sorry,” said Draco slowly, though he felt more angered now that he saw her so pained and yet still attempting to conceal the truth and seemingly protect her friends. He wondered if he was included in that group. “I was thinking.”

“What about?”

Even her voice made his body tremble and hurt. She sounded broken, like she wanted nothing more than to tell, but she was being held at wandpoint and had to sacrifice her own health for the sake of others. How he wished he could just solve things without anyone getting hurt. He was willing to do anything to keep her safe. 

“How unfair this is,” he murmured. “You don’t deserve to be suffering here, Kit. He hurt you, clearly in a way that no one should. Please, reconsider—”

“Draco, it’s not going to happen,” insisted Kit weakly. She was feeling more nauseous by the second, and her head was throbbing more powerfully. “Please…”

Her body then careened to the side, and she yanked out a bucket before purging herself of the contents of her stomach. Draco rushed to pull her hair out of her face. Kit cried out in pain, her hand flying to her stomach before she threw up again. 

It seemed the sound of Kit’s retching had drawn Madam Pomfrey back to the room. “Oh dear,” she said, grasping a small bottle and bringing it to Kit’s lips as she briefly paused. Kit drank it almost greedily, her eyes scrunched up, her face contorted in pain. Several seconds later, she lay back on the bed, looking exhausted.

“Professor Flitwick is waiting to see you, dear,” said Madam Pomfrey once Kit’s breathing was soft enough for her soft voice to be heard. 

“Oh… okay. Bring him in.”

The tiny Professor trotted in not even a minute later. He came and stood on the chair Draco had previously been sitting in, then turned skeptically to Draco. “Could you excuse us, Mr. Malfoy—?”

Draco moved to get up, but Kit grasped his hand. It was a weak grip, but it was pleading. She didn’t want him to go. “Stay,” said the brunette hoarsely. “Please, I feel sick.”

Professor Flitwick didn’t seem to mind, so long as it was what Kit wanted. Draco sat back on the bed.

“I was informed of your outburst,” squeaked Professor Flitwick once Kit turned to him, ready to listen. “I was also informed of the penalty— the loss of over one hundred points for Ravenclaw House.”

“I’m sorry about the points,” said Kit, though she didn’t sound sorry. She could care less about points and winning the House Cup. “But he just— he’s—”

“He was being completely disrespectful,” put in Draco quietly, causing the Professor to look very surprised. “He was insulting her and Potter, and he was humiliating Potter and Gr—Hermione in class. Honestly, he deserved it.”

“I understand Professor Snape can be… well, for lack of a better phrase… utterly and disappointingly infuriating. But I am concerned because it seems to have gotten quite out of hand. You and I have spoken before about your temper, Kit, and your problems with Professor Snape, and I am doing my best to be understanding of what you have shared with me, but it’s got to be fixed. This can’t keep happening.”

“Whatever punishment you give me or he gives me, it will keep happening,” answered Kit bluntly. “He has absolutely no right to treat me or any other student like that. Most students are too scared to retaliate. That man— he needs to be fired. I’m serious. He can keep giving me detentions and make me clean his classroom, he can take away House points, but that won’t stop me from speaking up when he acts like that. He doesn’t need to be an ass.”

“Language, Kit,” squeaked Flitwick, though he didn’t seem at all fazed by her language. “I didn’t come to punish you. In fact, I think it would be beneficial if you went to Hogsmeade tomorrow and tried to let loose. I know that you do exceptional work even when it’s hastily done, therefore I’ve also asked your Professors to give you a bit of leeway with your assignments if you need extra breathers in between studying. Ravenclaw has a reputation for having the most clever students, and as its Head, I understand that your Housemates also happen to be some of the most stressed students in Hogwarts. I don’t mind conforming to that if it means you will be alright.”

Kit let out a shaky sigh. She didn’t feel she deserved Flitwick’s kindness. She was a coward who couldn’t stand up to a man who could barely walk straight. And even then, she still felt she was an idiot who had let him harm her in the first place. She was stupid enough to be out so late at night, even if it meant helping Harry. She should have left rather than follow him that night. Is that why Draco had worried and walked her to her dorm so often? Had he suspected someone was out to hurt her?

“Thank you, Professor,” she whispered softly after a long silence.

“Of course, Kit.” The girl thoroughly appreciated him. For one, he was the only Head of House who consistently referred to his students by their first names, out of respect. Two, he was very understanding and always tried to be patient. But still, she wished he wasn’t so kind to her. 

“Now, is there anything else you need?” asked Flitwick as he got off of the chair.

“Not at the moment,” said Kit. He gave her and Draco a nod, then trotted out the way he’d come.

“Kit,” said Draco slowly, “what did you mean by ‘he can keep giving me detentions and make me clean his classroom?’”

“Oh. I thought you knew. Snape gives me detention like he’s giving away raffle tickets. I’ve gotten into the habit of just going in to clean his office and classroom sometimes to make it up. I never have to see him. I hardly even think of it because I do it so often.”

He winced, and Kit simply crossed her arms. “He’s Alana’s age, you know,” said Kit. “He went to Hogwarts at the same time she did. They knew each other. That’s how he met my parents. And now that I know he’s a…. Like them… well, it’s making me uncomfortable.”

Draco squirmed a bit, having already known Snape was a Death Eater since long ago. He supposed Kit had only just found out. “I don’t know what made him such a prat.”

Kit uncrossed her arms to rub her eyes. “I wish Alana was still around. She could have told us why he’s like that.” Her lip began to quiver. “I wish she was here… maybe none of this would be happening. She could have told us how to work our way around Snape’s bitchiness. S-She might have guided me so that all this wasn’t so overwhelming. M-Maybe if she was here, she would protect me from my parents… hell, she would have never let me get abused.”

Draco felt a pang in his heart. He reached for her hand, and she let him take it. He squeezed it gently, leaning forward to brush her hair out of her face. “I wish I could get them to leave you alone,” he said shakily. “I wish I had that sort of power. And I am so sorry I couldn’t protect you that day. I’m so sorry that they have hurt you all this time.”

“There’s nothing you could have done,” said Kit quietly. “Seriously. I just…” she let out a hard breath. “Nevermind. I’ll be fine.”

“Kit, you clearly aren’t fine—”

“Please, Draco, let it go.”

He gritted his teeth and sat back. “You can be infuriating sometimes.”

“So can you,” she shot back, though a slight smirk played on her lips. “You’re the more infuriating one.”

“Am not!” he gasped, looking offended. 

“Are too!” 

He seemed to give in, and rolled his eyes. “Fine. How about this, you come to Hogsmeade with Blaise and I tomorrow? Get your mind off of everything?”

“I’d like to, but I can’t,” she said immediately, making Draco feel self-conscious for a moment before she continued her explanation. “I already made plans with Hermione and them. It’s been set since this morning.”

“Ah. Well… maybe next time, alright?” he offered. 

“Sure,” she said, beaming at him. Draco found himself smiling. She looked so beautiful. There was a brief moment where he hesitated, but he leaned forward a bit, intending to give her a kiss on the forehead. 

Kit, however, immediately moved away. “Woah there, Smok,” she said, her voice a bit shaky out of confusion. “What’s with that? Just because we’re being forced into marriage doesn’t mean you have to start being… affectionate.”

“I’m sorry,” said Draco immediately, his face all pink. “I was going to k-kiss your forehead— I don’t know what came over me.”

Kit gently pushed him off. “Um… I really don’t want to do anything like that. Not with anyone. Please.”

“Of course… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just leaned in like that.” He got up quickly, feeling unbelievably embarrassed. “I’ll… er… let you rest.” He walked out immediately after, leaving Kit to finally let a nervous laugh come out of her mouth.

The truth was, she hadn’t minded the fact he wanted to kiss her.

**_**

Kit wasn’t paying attention to most of their conversation with Sirius. She was deep in thought, disregarding the fact they kept discussing Barty Crouch. 

The only thing that name was bringing her was terrible memories. It was investigating Barty Crouch that got her in contact with Moody. 

“Hermione, will you give it a rest with the elf!” said Ron, making Kit snap back into reality. It seemed Hermione was still discussing the fact Crouch sacked his elf. 

Sirius shook his head at the redhead and said, “She’s got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a mans like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.”

He ran a hand over his unshaven face, evidently thinking hard. “All these absences of Barty Crouch’s... he goes to the trouble of making sure his house-elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn’t bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too... It’s not like Crouch. If he’s ever taken a day off work because of illness before this, I’ll eat Buckbeak.”

“D’you know Crouch, then?” said Harry.

Sirius’s face darkened. “Oh I know Crouch all right,” he said quietly. “He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban— without a trial.”

“Seriously?” asked Kit, interested again. “Damn… well, Crouch was the old Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Now, my father has that position.” 

Sirius nodded. “Crouch was tipped for the next Minister of Magic. He’s a great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magical— and power-hungry. Oh never a Voldemort supporter. No, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side. But then a lot of people who were against the Dark Side... well, you wouldn’t understand... you’re too young...”

“That’s what my dad said at the World Cup,” said Ron, with a trace of irritation in his voice. “Try us, why don’t you?”

A grin flashed across Sirius’s thin face. “All right, I’ll try you… Imagine that Voldemort’s powerful now. You don’t know who his supporters are, you don’t know who’s working for him and who isn’t; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You’re scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing... the Ministry of Magic’s in disarray, they don’t know what to do, they’re trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere... panic... confusion... that’s how it used to be.

“Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others. Crouch’s principles might’ve been good in the beginning— I wouldn’t know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers— powers to kill rather than capture, for instance. And I wasn’t the only one who was handed straight to the dementors without trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side. He had his supporters, mind you— plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened...” Sirius smiled grimly. “Crouch’s own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who’d managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power.”

Kit suddenly felt very awkward, not only because her parents were some of the Death Eaters that got their way out of Azkaban, but because she had a vague memory about something to do with Barty Crouch and a son. It was very blurry in her mind, but it was tugging at her as if trying to tell her to examine it. 

“Crouch’s son was caught?” gasped Hermione, leaving Kit momentarily unable to think. 

“Yep,” said Sirius, throwing a chicken bone to Buckbeak, who Kit found quite magnificent, though she was having a difficult time paying attention to him. “Nasty little shock for old Barty, I’d imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn’t he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while... gotten to know his own son.”

“Was his son a Death Eater?” said Harry.

“No idea,” said Sirius. “I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I’ve found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I’d bet my life were Death Eaters— but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf.”

“Did Crouch try and get his son off?” Hermione whispered. Sirius let out a laugh that was much more like a bark.

“Crouch let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione! Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again— doesn’t that tell you what he’s like? Crouch’s fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn’t much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy... then he sent him straight to Azkaban.”

“He gave his own son to the dementors?” asked Harry quietly.

Dementors. Crouch’s son. Barty Crouch. Her parents. Kit was trying to put the pieces together, concentrate on the sounds ringing in the back of her head. At the moment, she felt more in control than she had before, her previous worried momentarily dissipated. 

“That’s right,” said Sirius, and he didn’t look remotely amused now. “I saw the dementors bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can’t have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though... they all went quiet in the end... except when they shrieked in their sleep...”

“So he’s still in Azkaban?” Harry asked quietly..

“No,” said Sirius dully. “No, he’s not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in.”

“He died?”

“He wasn’t the only one,” said Sirius bitterly. “Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it.”

Sirius picked up the flask of pumpkin juice and drained it. As Kit watched him, she narrowed her eyes. Yes, dementors and dying sounded familiar. But why? 

“So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made,” Sirius continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Kit listened intently. He seemed to know a lot about this. “One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic... next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonored, and, so I’ve heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation.”

There was a long silence, and that was when Kit put most of the pieces together, though something was missing. 

“Wait a minute,” Kit said quietly. “Yes— I remember—“ she looked up at Sirius. “You and my sister knew Barty Crouch Jr., right?”

Sirius nodded grimly. “Yes, he was friends with… a few people we knew. Rabastan was one of them. Your sister and Barty were friends. But of course, she and Rabastan got paired together, I suppose it was the most beneficial. I suspect Barty was a candidate though, despite the fact Crouch didn’t trust your father.” 

Kit put her hands together, narrowing her eyes. The others watched her curiously as her fingers twitched. 

“They’ve mentioned him before,” said Kit. “Briefly. They were mentioning how Crouch got obsessed with catching Dark wizards….”

“Well,” said Ron, “if Crouch were here to investigate Snape, why hasn’t he been coming to judge the tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts and keep an eye on him.”

“So you think Snape could be up to something, then?” asked Harry, but Hermione broke in. “Look, I don’t care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape—“

“Oh give it a rest, Hermione,” said Ron impatiently. “I know Dumbledore's brilliant and everything, but that doesn’t mean a really clever Dark wizard couldn’t fool him—“

“Arguably, I don’t trust Dumbledore,” said Kit, not wanting to mention that she knew Snape was a Death Eater.

“That’s not the point!” Hermione insisted. “Why did Snape save Harry’s life in the first year, then? Why didn’t he just let him die?” 

“I dunno,” said Ron, “maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out—“

“What d’you think, Sirius?” Harry said loudly.

“I think they’ve both got a point,” said Sirius, looking thoughtfully at Ron and Hermione. “And so does Kit, with being skeptical of Dumbledore. Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I’ve wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape’s always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was. Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters.

“Rosier and Wilkes— they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges— they’re a married couple— they’re in Azkaban, along with Rabastan. He never talked at all, don’t know why. I feel he may be the only one who knows what happened to Alana. Avery— from what I’ve heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he’d been acting under the Imperius Curse— he’s still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater— not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught.”

“Most of them paid their way out,” said Kit, not because she was eager to say her bit, but because she was still working out her parents’ connection to Barty Crouch Jr. “Snape was clever enough not to get caught.” 

“Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet,” said Ron.

“Yeah, you should’ve seen Snape’s face when Karkaroff turned up in Potions yesterday!” said Harry, though he stopped quickly. “Er, sorry, Kit wasn’t there for it. Basically, Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, he said Snape’s been avoiding him. Karkaroff looked really worried. He showed Snape something on his arm, but I couldn’t see what it was.”

“He showed Snape something on his arm?” said Sirius, looking frankly bewildered. He looked at Kit as if expecting her to answer, but seemed to recall Harry mentioning she wasn’t there, and he looked away. “Well, I’ve no idea what that’s about... but if Karkaroff is genuinely worried, and he’s going to Snape for answers...”

Sirius stared at the cave wall, then made a grimace of frustration. “There’s still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn’t, but I just can’t see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he’d ever worked for Voldemort.”

Kit winced. Did Dumbledore just not know? Just as he hadn’t known about the gang of Death Eaters when her sister was in school?

That was when it clicked. 

“Oh my,” she gasped, even though her realization came after they’d already moved on in the conversation. “Sirius… wait… I think I know why my parents were talking about Crouch. It was about how my father got that position. I was around four when he got it, Crouch had just stepped down and he specifically chose my father for it.”

“Your father was buddies with Crouch?” Sirius asked, confused. “But isn’t your father—?”

“That’s the thing,” Kit whispered. “My father is Barty Crouch Jr.’s godfather.” 


	25. Chapter 25

**The awkward silence that ensued made Kit wonder if that had been the right thing to bring up.**

“He… he’s your father’s godson?” said Sirius, furrowing his eyebrows as if struggling to see it. “Well… it would make sense why Alana and Barty knew each other… and I did think he was a contestant in her arranged marriage thing… but I didn’t know Crouch and your father got along that well.”

“Me neither,” said Kit. “Some information has to be missing in between the lines— something that would let it all make sense.”

“It’s suspicious,” mused Sirius as Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked between him and Kit eagerly, as if not wanting to miss an important detail. “Crouch wouldn’t have respected your father if he knew about his servitude to Voldemort. How did he end up becoming his son’s godfather? And why did he specifically leave him the job?”

“Maybe my father did something— played a hand in what happened to Barty Crouch Jr.,” suggested Kit. “My father… well, he helped Karkaroff and my godfather get off easily. I don’t know how. I didn’t think my father’s influence was that strong. Everyone knows he got them off, and yet he and Lucius are still highly respected. Honestly, I’m sure most people are aware of the fact that my father was a follower of the Dark Lord. Crouch’s reputation got destroyed after what happened to his son, right? What if he thought my father was helping, but then something came about and that’s why Crouch has gone mad trying to figure things out? Because I’m sure my father could have easily gotten Barty Crouch Jr. off. He didn’t help Rabastan, and he was Alana’s husband. I suppose that may be because Rabastan might have had something to do with her disappearance, but still…”

“Maybe Crouch and Moody are working together,” noted Ron, fiddling with his fingers. “Moody and Crouch both seem so keen on getting into Snape’s office.”

The mention of Moody almost sent Kit into a small panic. She felt her chest tighten, but she ignored the uncomfortable sensation, not wanting to miss any more of this important conversation now that it was getting fishy. She allowed her body to tense, and tried to keep her expressions neutral. She hoped no one was paying attention.

Sirius seemed to notice Kit’s abrupt posture and mood change, but he didn’t speak on it. “Well,” he started slowly, “I wouldn’t put it past Mad-Eye to have searched every single teacher’s office when he got to Hogwarts. He takes his Defense Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I’m not sure he trusts anyone at all, and after the things he’s seen, it’s not surprising. I’ll say this for Moody, though, he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough, but he never descended to the level of the Death Eaters. Crouch, though... he’s a different matter... is he really ill? If he is, why did he make the effort to drag himself up to Snape’s office? And if he’s not... what’s he up to? What was he doing at the World Cup that was so important he didn’t turn up in the Top Box? What’s he been doing while he should have been judging the tournament? And everything with his son….”

He lapsed into silence, staring at the wall while Buckbeak ferreted around for bones he may have overlooked. Finally, Sirius gave a gruff sigh and looked over at Ron. “You said your brother is Crouch’s personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he’s seen Crouch at all lately?”

“I can try,” said Ron doubtfully. “Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy loves Crouch.”

“And you might try and find out whether they’ve got any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you’re at it,” said Sirius. Kit didn’t recall who Bertha Jorkins was, as she hadn’t been paying attention, and at the moment wasn’t really in the mood for asking about it. She was glad that their conversation about Moody had been brief.

“Bagman told me they hadn’t,” said Harry in response to Sirius.

“Yes, he’s quoted in the article in there,” said Sirius. “Blustering on about how bad Bertha’s memory is. Well, maybe she’s changed since I knew her, but the Bertha I knew wasn’t forgetful at all— quite the reverse. She was a bit dim, but she had an excellent memory for gossip. It used to get her into a lot of trouble; she never knew when to keep her mouth shut. I can see her being a bit of a liability at the Ministry of Magic... maybe that’s why Bagman didn’t bother to look for her for so long...”

Sirius heaved an enormous sigh and rubbed his shadowed eyes. “What’s the time?”

“It’s half past three,” said Hermione.

“You’d better get back to school,” Sirius said, getting to his feet. “Now listen...” He looked particularly hard at Harry. “I don’t want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you’re not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you.”

“No one’s tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of grindylows,” Harry said, but Sirius scowled at him.

“I don’t care... I’ll breathe freely again when this tournament’s over, and that’s not until June. And don’t forget, if you’re talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?” He then stopped. “Right— I’ll walk down to the edge of the village with you in a bit. Kit, can you stay behind? I have a couple of questions that you might be a bit uncomfortable sharing answers to.”

Kit remained seated as the others exited the cave and waited respectfully outside. Sirius crouched down across from her, narrowing his eyes.

“Um, yes?” she asked nervously. She hoped he couldn’t read her mind. She knew she couldn’t trust Draco to stay quiet with the truth, but she could trust Sirius even less. He might land himself back in Azkaban if she told him, because he’d actually go and commit murder.

“What’s wrong?” he asked gently. “I know that look. I used to see it in the mirror. Something in the conversation made you feel uncomfortable, right? So spill. What’s been going on? You know you can always write me letters if you need to talk about anything.”

Kit hesitated. She was definitely not considering telling him the full truth. But what partial truth could she say? Or what lie would substitute it?

“The conversation got me thinking about the holidays,” she said. Not true, but she went with it. 

“Did your parents do something to you?” His brows furrowed in concern, but his eyes darkened, almost as if he already knew it was something very bad.

Kit decided perhaps she could share a separate thing that had been ailing her. “My parents… they used the Cruciatus Curse on me.”

Sirius’s jaw twitched. Kit found the gesture familiar. Draco’s jaw twitched in almost the exact same way when he was angry. 

“They did what?” It came out as a deadly whisper. 

“It was for a stupid reason,” she murmured. “Draco was trying to get them to stop hurting me because he saw the scars on my back.” 

Sirius swore loudly, which made Kit wince a bit. He covered his face with his hands. “Why— why the fuck is the Ministry okay with this? Years ago, they rejected a bill that would be able to track every registered wand that performed an Unforgivable, to punish anyone who dared use it. I hate this idiotic system! If it weren’t for them— hell, Hermione would have her justice for house elves, you and I would have never been abused, people like Snape wouldn’t be here bullying children, Malfoy and your father wouldn’t be allowed to have the power that they do, Alana wouldn’t have disappeared…”

Kit noticed that the second he spoke her sister’s name, he looked more distraught than before. She supposed they hadn’t just ‘snogged a few times.’ When she’d jokingly told Sirius he might have been her brother-in-law… she had suspected they might have had a thing but this...

“Sirius, you and my sister weren’t just friends, were you?” she asked quietly. “It wasn’t just a few snogs.”

He winced. “It’s hard for me to think back on those times, Kit. I like just pretending that we didn’t have anything too special so that I don’t miss her so much. But… she was my best friend. I told you how she’d pretend to visit Regulus so she could see me. She knew Remus was a werewolf and she, brilliant as she was, helped us become animagi. She nursed me after a particularly bad round… of the Cruciatus Curse from my mother. 

“Your sister, she was a natural healer. The way her hands moved, how she spoke... I fell hard for her, Kit. The first time we snogged was part of a game, but after that… well, it was always secret, because she was scared Rabastan would find out and tell her parents. Next thing I knew, she was apologizing and crying saying that she had to cut it off because their arranged marriage had been announced. She said she was really sorry, that she had tried to have it cancelled because she was of age, but Rabastan was too pleased to have her to himself that he didn’t agree. I wanted to be mad at him, but the bloke was in his right mind. Only a fool would leave a woman like that. And besides, he had already been her friend, so it was a bonus. When she disappeared… it was incredibly painful. I wish things had been different.”

Listening to him, Kit got a pretty good idea of what they had had. A young love shattered by an arranged marriage that ended in the disappearance of one and imprisonment of the other. Now, Sirius was here and Alana was nowhere to be found. Kit saw the sad look in his eyes, and took his hand. 

“I’m so sorry this happened to you, Kit,” he whispered. “I’m sorry all of this is happening. I wish your parents and mine never abused me. I wish your sister was here.” He breathed in deeply. “Maybe… if I can get pardoned… I can take custody of both you and Harry. You’d be safe living with me.”

Kit felt a sense of joy building up in her chest. Live with Sirius? That would be incredible. “If we can… then I will definitely take you up on that.”

He beamed down at her and ruffled her hair. “Owl me if anything, okay?”

“I will,” promised Kit.

He then transformed back into a great black dog before leading her out of the cave, and down the mountainside with the others. They each took turns patting him on the head when they reached the edge of the village, and when they’d finished, he turned and ran back to the cave. Kit followed the others back towards Hogwarts.

“Wonder if Percy knows all that stuff about Crouch?” Ron wondered. “But maybe he doesn’t care... It’d probably just make him admire Crouch even more. Yeah, Percy loves rules. He’d just say Crouch was refusing to break them for his own son.”

“Percy would never throw any of his family to the dementors,” said Hermione severely.

“I don’t know,” said Ron. “If he thought we were standing in the way of his career... Percy’s really ambitious, you know...” he breathed in deeply. “Poor old Snuffles. He must really like you. Harry... Imagine having to live off rats…”

**_**

After seeing Sirius, Kit found herself gathering food all the time, constantly sending it to him. Sometimes, she’d include small uplifting messages, but she had not yet hinted at anything else to be wrong. She was considering Sirius to be like her family even though she technically wasn’t related to him at all. Come to think of it, if her memories were correct, then the one who was actually related to Sirius was Draco, and more distantly, Ron.

“I want to meet him one day,” said Blaise one evening that Kit had gotten to sit down and actually try to complete an assignment. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“He’s excellent!” said Kit. “Anyway, how are you and Hermione?”

Blaise turned a bit pink. “Well, we’re doing okay. I haven’t told her about any of my confusing feelings yet. But we do hang out a bit more; she was asking me to help her with more research for S.P.E.W. and all that.” Kit noticed the S.P.E.W. badge was still gleaming on his robes. She, Harry, and Ron didn’t wear theirs— it was only Hermione and Blaise at this point. “I suppose she’s still really into Viktor Krum though… I see them chatting ever so often.”

“Ah, when he leaves she’ll only keep him as a friend! She won’t try to do a long-distance relationship, trust me. For now, don’t tell her anything. Keep solidifying your friendship. That’s the best foundation.”

Blaise had been about to answer, but Draco quite unceremoniously flopped onto him from behind the couch, making Kit spill ink on the cushions.

“You prat!” hissed Blaise, having been knocked aside by Draco. 

“Didn’t see you there, Blaise,” said Draco casually. He had been trying to be funny or something follow his almost-a-forehead-kiss flop in the Hospital Wing. Every time he was around Kit, he’d do something unbelievably clumsy or just plain silly. While she found it funny, it was strange. She supposed, granted how his parents raised him, he didn’t have the best coping mechanisms for anything just yet.

“You saw me, you’re not blind,” hissed Blaise as Draco situated himself comfortably between him and Kit while she cleaned the ink stain. 

“I never said I was blind,” countered Draco, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “You two are still doing homework? Couldn’t be me.”

Blaise and Kit shared a weird look. “Maybe we should tackle him to get him to stop being weird,” suggested Kit with a cheeky grin. Draco almost immediately sat up and crossed his arms over his abdomen, as if to deflect an attack. 

Kit looked over at him, finding herself blushing as she scooted a bit closer to him. “So, Quidditch,” she proposed. “Next season. Should I still try out for Chaser?”

“You’re downright lousy at any other position,” said Blaise immediately. “So yes, stay at Chaser.”

“Eh,” said Draco, shrugging a bit. “You could try and beat Chang for the title of Seeker.”

“But there’s hardly any action with that!”

“Okay, then how about Keeper?”

“Oh, no,” teased Blaise, kicking at Kit from over Draco’s legs. “Kit wouldn’t fare well with balls flying in her face.”

“I’d be spectacular,” she said, rolling her eyes as she threw a cushion at him. Draco didn’t seem to like this, and changed the conversation.

“I heard they’re closing off the Quidditch pitch for the third task,” announced Draco. “What do you reckon it is?”

“A dueling arena,” said Kit without hesitation. “They’ll make these obstacles for them to duel and the last one standing wins. Everyone against everyone.”

“That’s a death hazard,” noted Blaise. “I think that was a task once before— which is why the Tournament got cancelled for so long.”

Draco smirked. “Blaise, you’re a party pooper. Maybe Kit Kat wants everyone to fight to the death.”

“Not if her precious Cedric is in danger of being hurt,” teased Blaise. 

Kit flushed. “I don’t fancy him anymore, Blaise, so I’m not going to be at the edge of my seat or anything.”

“Who do you fancy then?” said Blaise cleverly, as if he knew something she didn’t— which in fact, he did. 

Kit didn’t answer, and instead folded her assignment neatly into her bag. “I think I’m going to head back for the night.”

“I’ll walk you,” said Draco immediately, standing up. “Let me just go get my wand, wait for me.” He bounded down the stairs to his dormitory.

Blaise wiggled his eyebrows at Kit. “You two are getting along very well, hmm? It’s a nice turn.”

Unbeknownst to Kit, Blaise was the mastermind behind it all. He was still coaching Draco on how to try and talk to her, how to view situations that went against what he was taught as a child. Draco had become quite attentive when Blaise was explaining his own point of views and how it tied in with what Kit believed.

“It is,” she said a bit shyly. “It’s nice to talk to him again. He’s been quite tolerable, and I don’t feel scared when I’m around him.”

“Good,” said Blaise. “As long as he’s being nice, things will hopefully be fine, right?”

Kit nodded, looking up as Draco came up, his wand in hand. “Let’s go.”

“Goodnight, Blaise,” chirped Kit as she followed Draco out the door. She was surprised to see Draco smiling as he led the way for her.

“What’s got you so happy?” she inquired suspiciously.

“I’m just glad you let me walk you to your Common Room,” said Draco in response, grinning as she caught up to him and matched his pace. His hand brushed hers, which she took as intentional. She led her fingers slide against his, and carefully grasped his hand. She practically felt his heartbeat speed up through his hand, and when she gazed at him through her peripheral vision, he was smiling a bit bigger.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “You’ve been a big help after everything. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Kit Kat,” he said, beginning to swing their arms happily.

They made their way up several staircases and down several hallways. It seemed Draco was taking the long way, probably to prolong his time with Kit, which she found flattering.

“Oh look, there’s Harry!” said Kit, letting go of Draco’s hand as she trotted up to him. The raven haired boy had an entire ham in his hands, and he seemed to be heading to the Owlery.

“Is that for—?” Kit began. Harry nodded, looking back skeptically at Draco, who awkwardly shuffled behind Kit, his hands now in his pockets.

“I hope Pig can manage,” Harry said as he kept walking. “It’s really heavy…”

This was true. Once they reached the Owlery and called Pigwidgeon down, Kit realized the tiny owl was smaller than the ham. She giggled awkwardly as she cradled Pigwidgeon in her arms and hugged him. “You teeny little thing, you’re going to need help carrying this.”

“Who’s that for, Kit Kat?” asked Draco from the doorway, not looking at Harry. 

“A friend of ours who is in need,” she said simply. 

Draco scratched the back of his head. Blaise’s words were ringing in his head, and he seemed to decide on something. He whistled, and Brutus flew down from his perch, landing on Draco’s outstretched arms. “Brutus, be good, and help the little one with that… um… ham.”

Harry turned around looking more confused than Kit had ever seen him before. Kit led go of Pigwidgeon as Brutus flew over and got his claws on the wrapping of the ham. Pigwidgeon flew over and grasped another end. It was rather awkward to watch as the two owls took off carrying the package between them, but it seemed they were working well. They soared out into the night sky toward Hogsmeade and eventually, the cave where Sirius resided.

“Er— thank you,” said Harry, looking almost suspiciously at Draco.

“Um… you’re welcome,” said Draco, stepping out and moving aside for Harry to pass. Harry nodded to Kit and went back to his Common Room. 

“Sorry that you felt obligated to follow,” said Kit, taking Draco’s hand gently in her own again. “But that was impressive. You were civil to him.”

“I’m doing my best,” Draco said with a slight smile. He looked proud of himself.

“Well, your best is exceptionally good,” Kit praised as they began to walk to the Ravenclaw Common Room. She remembered the first time he’d walked her to her dorm all those months ago. From the Owlery to her dormitory. It made her blush. She was appreciating how hard Draco was trying, and it made her heart swell. 

Once they arrived to the door, the cool eagle voice asked, “What has an eye, but cannot see?”

Kit was still processing the question when Draco answered: “A needle.”

“Good response,” the eagle told him before opening the door for both of them. 

“You can come in, if you’d like,” offered Kit.

“Er— I think I should head back and let you rest,” he said. “But maybe next time.”

“Alright. Well… thank you, very much. It means a lot to me that you’re helping protect me and that you had Brutus help Pig.”

Draco’s lips curled back into his smile from before. “You’re welcome, Kit Kat.”

There was an awkward moment when they both just stared at each other, not knowing what to do. Kit thought perhaps it would be appropriate to kiss his cheek, but she simply couldn’t gather her wits up to do it.

She awkwardly cleared her throat and let go of his hand. “I’ll see you around,” she whispered. She walked toward the door, and listened as Draco’s footsteps went back the way they’d come.

“Draco.” 

He turned, seeing she had not yet entered her Common Room. Her eyes shone, and he looked up at her hopefully. 

“We’re friends, right?” she asked softly, her voice bringing an indescribable joy to Draco. He felt his cheeks heat up, and the corners of his mouth turned up to smirk at her. “Of course, we are, Kit Kat.”

“Good,” she answered, casting him a grin before closing the door behind her.

Draco’s heart did a somersault.

She considered him a friend again. 

_Comment for more :)_


	26. Chapter 26

**In the morning, Kit took advantage of her and Su being the only ones left in the dorm to tell her about what’d happened with Draco.**

“That’s so cute!” Su squealed. “I’m so happy that this has worked out, Kit. I was skeptical at first, but he’s starting to prove himself, isn’t he?”

Kit nodded, having omitted the part where Draco was specifically protecting her from Moody. He really had turned things around, hadn’t he? “He’s someone I enjoy talking to again,” she said blissfully. “It’s a huge relief.”

“Helps that he’s not bad on the eyes,” giggled Su as she went to curl her eyelashes. “My, if I got to look at a handsome lad like that all the time… I think I could cope with anything.”

Kit didn’t want to be _that_ person, so she didn’t say anything, but she was definitely thinking that her own life was a gigantic wreck compared to Su’s. She quickly shook that thought out of her head. No, she shouldn’t be thinking that. She didn’t want pity. “He is good looking,” she agreed. “He’s silly when he wants to be, too. Good company.”

“Have you talked about the arranged marriage thing with him yet?”

“Er— no, I don’t think I want to bring it up. We’re getting along well right now, with that thought being in the back of our minds. I prefer it that way. It might get complicated if we start taking that into consideration.”

“But you’re still thinking that you don’t want to marry him, right?”

“Definitely. I admit, Su, he wouldn’t be a bad partner, but I won’t settle for it being forced upon us. I’d rather we don’t get married, and if it comes to that, build a relationship from there. If it doesn’t work out, we break up and that’s that.”

“Good,” said Su pleasantly. “Don’t let that thought dissipate. Remember, he still listens to his father a lot, and while he may be changing and he may be cute… well—”

“It’s okay, you can say it,” urged Kit. “I still can’t fully trust him. I may not be able to until we’re of age or until he starts doing everything without letting his father’s influence cloud his judgement.”

She had to admit, that was a consistent thought in her head. What happened when his father’s influence was too strong? What if he threatened or hurt Draco once he realized that he was no longer hating on Muggle borns? Would Lucius be proud that Kit and Draco were getting along? Or would he tell Kenneth, and would he in turn punish her for ‘corrupting’ Draco? Would they cancel their marriage and make Kit be paired up with someone worse, like the Mulciber boys or god forbid— either Crabbe or Goyle? 

She wished dearly that Draco would grow to understand everything and genuinely believe in what she did so that he would be able to withstand his father. She hoped he would learn that Muggle borns really weren’t bad, and neither were Gryffindors. She wanted so badly to help him be a better person. She wanted Hermione, Ron, and especially Harry to know the Draco that she had called her best friend all those years ago. Ron and Draco would be the best opponents for each other when it came to Wizard’s Chess. Harry and Draco would have a blast trying to catch the Snitch in a real match once they didn't despise each other. Hermione and Draco would get along so well when it came to things like Charms and Potions, as both shared those two as some of their best subjects. Even Su, Mimi, Terry, and Anthony would have a grand time joking around with Draco and playing games with him.

How she wished it were more simple.

“Just be careful, Kit, that’s all I ask of you, now that you told him you consider him a friend again,” said Su. 

Kit nodded, leaning back onto her bed. Draco was her friend again. Her very attractive, athletic, intelligent, silly, and especially caring friend. He was everything she wanted in a person. She predicted in a couple of years he’d have a final growth spurt. 

She came to consider that she felt rather short around her friends, despite being pretty tall. She was around five feet and six inches, same as Hermione, and very similar to Su and Mimi, who were slightly taller than Kit. Blaise had been tall since they were children, and she doubted he’d grow more now that he was around six feet and two inches tall. Ron at the present moment was around six feet tall, already taller than the twins. Harry was still shorter than Kit, and Draco was barely an inch or two above her, but she knew that both boys were definitely going to grow a bit more in the coming years.

Kit shook her head quickly, unsure why she was even thinking about that. Had it all stemmed from envisioning Draco in her head? He was already exceedingly handsome when she barely had to look up to him. If he grew to be Blaise’s height…

Her cheeks heated up and she fanned her face a bit. From in front of the mirror, Su smirked back at her, finishing her eyeliner. “What are you thinking, naughty girl?”

“I’m not thinking anything,” said Kit immediately. She stood and awkwardly went to be beside Su as if she hadn’t almost imagined what it would be like to kiss Draco once he was taller. “Er— you’re very good at your eyeliner. Could you perhaps teach me?”

“Of course!” said Su, her previous comment discarded. “Just saying, though, don’t feel the need to do makeup or anything because you’re all friendly with Draco again.”

Kit bit her lip. “I mean, it’s not because of that but honestly… it does give me a bit of motivation. I might start making adjustments in the summer, for next year.”

“Ooh, like what?”

Kit stared at herself in the mirror. Tall, sort of skinny, but with stomach chub, and without nicely toned legs. One, she wanted to work out. Her own eyelashes were flat and while plucked, her eyebrows weren’t done well enough to make a statement. Two, she’d start doing some light makeup. It couldn’t hurt, right? It would make her feel better about herself. Her teeth were fixed now, and her lips were fine. But what caught her eye was her long hair, sort of frizzy and down to her mid-back. 

“I think, besides working out and using makeup,” mused Kit, “I’d like to cut my hair and straighten it permanently.”

“I think that’ll look good! How short are you thinking?”

“A bit under or a bit over my shoulder, I’d say. Not sure… I’ll come around to impulsively cutting it, eventually.”

Su smiled. “I can start teaching you makeup things now, just when no one but the girls are around, and once you feel okay with doing it yourself and going out with it, we can do more complicated things if you’d like. My mum is really good at makeup. I think if she hadn’t been so interested in books and teaching, she might have been a makeup artist or hair stylist! There wasn’t really an option to do the latter though, after my dad died in the war, she needed to do something that made more money.”

Kit patted Su’s shoulder, and the girl let her head flop onto Kit’s arm. 

At breakfast, Kit went to sit with the trio just in case Harry brought up seeing her and Draco.

He did, of course, which was expected.

“Was Malfoy walking you to your Common Room again, last night?” asked Harry between nibbles of bread. 

“Yep,” Kit said, popping the ‘p.’ “Did Pigwidgeon and Brutus ever come back?”

“Yeah, I checked in the morning, and they were both there,” answered Harry.

“Wait, isn’t Brutus… Malfoy’s bird?” asked Ron.

“Yes, he offered him up to help Pig because the ham Harry had was too heavy.”

“That’s sweet of him,” said Hermione, looking up eagerly as the post owls arrived.

“Percy won’t have had time to answer our letter yet,” said Ron. “We only sent Hedwig yesterday.”

“No, it’s not that,” said Hermione. “I’ve taken out a subscription to the Daily Prophet. I’m getting sick of finding everything out from the Slytherins.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Kit. Her parents had a subscription, but they didn’t really need it since they knew what was happening around the Ministry anyway. “Hey— all those owls are coming this way!”

A gray owl soared over first, landing in front of Hermione’s plate, followed closely by four barn owls, a brown owl, and a tawny.

“Bloody hell, Hermione, did you take a subscription out for every existing magazine?” cried Ron as Kit and Harry tried to stop the cluster of owls from knocking down their goblets. Each of them seemed very eager to deliver a letter to her. 

“What on earth—?” Hermione carefully took the letter from the gray owl, opened it, and started to read. “Oh, really! It’s— oh— how ridiculous!”

“What is it?” asked Kit. “Did they deny your subscription, or something?”

She thrust the letter at Harry, who turned it for Ron and Kit to see. It was not handwritten, but instead composed from pasted letters that seemed to have been cut out of the Daily Prophet.

_YOU ARE A WICKED GIRL. HARRY POTTER DESERVES BETTER. GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM MUGGLE._

“They’re all like it!” said Hermione desperately, opening one letter after another. “‘Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you... ’ ‘You deserve to be boiled in frog spawn... ’ Ouch!”

She had opened the last envelope, and yellowish-green liquid smelling strongly of petrol gushed over her hands, which began to erupt in large yellow boils.

“Undiluted bubotuber pus!” said Ron, picking up the envelope gingerly and sniffing it.

“Ow!” said Hermione, tears starting in her eyes as she tried to rub the pus off her hands with a napkin, but her fingers were now so thickly covered in painful sores that it looked as though she were wearing a pair of thick, knobbly gloves. Kit quickly leaned over and tried to help rub it off, and was just extracting her wand when Hermione let out a soft sob and got up, running out. 

“We’ll tell Professor Sprout where she’s gone,” announced Harry as Kit scrambled up with her things and bolted after Hermione. Flitwick wouldn’t mind if she was absent, so long as she explained it afterward. 

As she was running down the hall, she heard footsteps behind her, and turned to see Blaise. “Hey,” he panted. “What happened? I just saw her run out—”

“Some awful people sent her hate mail because of Rita Skeeter’s stupid article!” hissed Kit as they both tried to catch up to Hermione, who was way ahead of them. 

Blaise let out a low growl and gritted his teeth. “I swear, I don’t care how much money I have to pay, if it meant that Rita Skeeter could be blacklisted from writing anywhere—”

Kit grimaced in agreement.

When they finally arrived at the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey had already rushed over to help Hermione, they found her in full tears and sobs, holding her hands out shakily for the matron.

“I-I c-can’t believe it!” whimpered Hermione as Blaise fell into the chair at her side. “W-Why—”

She was blubbering within seconds, and Kit couldn’t understand what she was saying, but she was very distraught. Blaise nodded his head in response to whatever Hermione was saying, as if he could understand her. Kit preoccupied herself with going to Madam Pomfrey’s side and wordlessly volunteering herself to assist. Madam Pomfrey seemed thankful, and had her passing vials and observing how to cast healing spells that got the majority of the pus off of Hermione’s hands, though the boils remained, and needed to be treated separately. Kit found she rather enjoyed being able to help with Hermione’s healing process, and she recalled Sirius mentioning that Alana had been a natural healer. Was Kit one too?

By the time the class period would have been over, Hermione was no longer in pain, but her hands were bandaged. She still felt overwhelmed, however, so Blaise and Kit decided they might as well be late to Care of Magical Creatures altogether.

“You know those letters don’t define you, right?” said Kit gently, sitting next to Hermione on the bed. “They were written by jealous, gullible idiots who aren’t worth your time. You’re much more intelligent than them by a longshot.”

Hermione growled and leaned her head back. “I just don’t understand why Rita Skeeter has to be such a— such a—” 

“A bitch,” finished Blaise with a deadpan expression, making Hermione turn pink.

“Yes, that,” she agreed. “What does she get out of her lies? I’ll get her one day, I will….”

“Without a doubt,” said Blaise, leaning a bit forward. “You don’t deserve this treatment. I’m really sorry that it has happened. Like Kit said, you’re smarter and prettier and more amazing than the fucktards who spend their free time writing and sending harassing letters like this.”

Kit was impressed by how smoothly the words had rolled off his tongue. There was no doubt that Blaise meant it. His gentle gaze floated over Hermione as if she was the most precious thing in the world to him. Kit considered that in all their years at Hogwarts and before, Blaise had never even had a girlfriend. She wondered if maybe he had thought Hermione was cute since they’d first met, and had been building up to this.

Hermione, meanwhile, had gone from pink to crimson, and had sheepishly turned away, developing a new interest in the individual fibers of her bandages. “T-Thank you, you two.”

Blaise and Kit both knew that perhaps their words were not enough, but to Hermione, it was more than sufficient, and she certainly felt better with them there.

They did arrive to Care of Magical Creatures late, as expected. The entire class was having a blast, apparently using nifflers in a competition to collect gold.

“Oh there y’are, Hermione!” said Hagrid once he saw them coming. “An’ Kit, Blaise.”

“Hey, Hagrid,” said Blaise, casting a wicked looked at Pansy Parkinson, who was watching them beadily as they approached. 

“Well, let’s check how yeh’ve done!” said Hagrid once they got settled and stood beside him. “Count yer coins! An’ there’s no point tryin’ ter steal any, Goyle,” he added, his beetle-black eyes narrowed. “It’s leprechaun gold. Vanishes after a few hours.”

Goyle emptied his pockets, looking extremely sulky. It turned out that Ron’s niffler had been most successful, so Hagrid gave him an enormous slab of Honeydukes chocolate for a prize. The bell rang across the grounds for lunch; the rest of the class set off back to the castle, but Harry, Ron, Blaise, Kit, and Hermione stayed behind to help Hagrid put the nifflers back in their boxes. Kit noticed that Draco had looked back, as if considering staying, but Theodore Nott had urged him away, apparently showing him something that was in his pocket.

“What yeh done ter your hands, Hermione?” said Hagrid, looking concerned once he gazed over at her. While Hermione was telling him about her hate mail, Kit knelt and held up a niffler. 

“They’re so cute,” she cooed. It trilled and cuddled into her, making her giggle. “I suppose this one must be bored since I don’t wear anything valuable.”

“Aaah, don worry,” said Hagrid once Hermione was finished explaining. “I got some o’ those letters an all, after Rita Skeeter wrote abou me mum. ‘Yeh’re a monster an yeh should be put down.’ ‘Yer mother killed innocent people an if you had any decency you’d jump in a lake.’”

“No!” said Hermione, looking shocked.

“Yeah,” said Hagrid, heaving the niffler crates over by his cabin wall. “They’re jus’ nutters, Hermione. Don’ open ‘em if yeh get any more. Chuck ‘em straigh’ in the fire.”

“You missed a really good lesson,” Harry told Hermione as they headed back toward the castle. Blaise was busy searching with something in his bag as they walked, and Kit was leaning on him with the intention of making him trip. “They’re good, nifflers, aren’t they, Ron?”

Ron, however, was frowning at the chocolate Hagrid had given him. He looked thoroughly put out about something.

“What’s the matter?” said Harry. “Wrong flavor?”

“No,” said Ron shortly. “Why didn’t you tell me about the gold?”

“What gold?” said Harry, confused. 

“The gold I gave you at the Quidditch World Cup,” said Ron. “The leprechaun gold I gave you for my Omnioculars. In the Top Box. Why didn’t you tell me it disappeared?”

Kit felt herself turn red at the memory. 

_“And now,” roared Ludo Bagman’s voice, “kindly put your wands in the air... for the Irish National Team Mascots!”_

_Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd oooohed and aaaaahed, as though at a fireworks display. Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it._

_“Don’t collect the gold,” Kit’s father said immediately. “It’ll disappear soon enough. Let the poor have their fun.” He nodded to where Ron and Harry and their companions were thrilled to reach up and collect the glittering coins._

_“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” announced Ludo once the Irish were finished. “Kindly welcome— the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you— Dimitrov!”_

“Oh...” Harry said in response. “I dunno... I never noticed it had gone. I was more worried about my wand, wasn’t I?”

“Must be nice,” Ron said abruptly. “To have so much money you don’t notice if a pocketful of Galleons goes missing.”

“Listen, I had other stuff on my mind that night!” said Harry impatiently. “We all did, remember?”

“I didn’t know leprechaun gold vanishes,” Ron muttered. “I thought I was paying you back. You shouldn’t’ve given me that Chudley Cannon hat for Christmas.”

“Forget it, all right?” said Harry.

Ron grumbled. “I hate being poor.”

Harry, Hermione, Kit, and even Blaise shared an awkward look. They didn’t really know what to say in response to that. Kit really did wish she could give all her family’s money to the Weasley family. They needed it, and her family did not. In fact, they were hardly a family. 

“It’s rubbish,” continued Ron. “I don’t blame Fred and George for trying to make some extra money. Wish I could. Wish I had a niffler.”

“Well, we know what to get you next Christmas,” said Hermione brightly. Then, when Ron continued to look gloomy, she said, “Come on, Ron, it could be worse. At least your fingers aren’t full of pus.” She huffed loudly. “I hate that Skeeter woman!” she burst out savagely. “I’ll get her back for this if it’s the last thing I do!”

Unfortunately for her, the hate mail continued arriving on her plate over the following week. Hermione had taken Hagrid’s advice and hadn’t opened it, but several people had sent her Howlers, which had embarrassed her in front of everyone. Poor Harry was sick of telling people Hermione wasn’t his girlfriend, and Kit and Blaise’s vocal cords were sick of screaming random things to drown out the sounds of the Howlers. 

“It’ll die down, though,” Harry told Hermione, exasperated as they started to pack their things in Defense Against the Dark Arts. “If we just ignore it... People got bored with that stuff she wrote about me last time.

“I want to know how she’s listening into private conversations when she’s supposed to be banned from the grounds!” said Hermione angrily. She had insisted on staying behind to ask Professor Moody a question. The rest of the class was very eager to leave; Moody had given them such a rigorous test of hex-deflection that many of them were nursing small injuries.

Kit twitched her foot as the rest of the class began to leave and Hermione took her sweet time packing in order to ask her question once everyone was gone. She could practically feel Moody’s stare on her, even when she was facing away from him.

When she felt someone take her hand, she quite nearly whirled around to slap them, until she realized it was Draco.

“Hey, Kit, can you walk with me?” he said, wanting to lead her out. “I have a few things I want to talk to you about.”

Kit nodded, but her eyes had traveled to what was behind him. Moody was definitely staring, and he looked suspicious. Kit let Draco lead her out quickly, not daring to look back.

“He was watching you,” spat Draco once they were away from the classroom. He looked furious. “I saw him, evil bastard. His stupid eye was going from your heels to your head. I swear, if I had a way of killing—”

“Woah, calm down,” said Kit quickly, stopping in front of him and putting her hands on his chest, not caring that there were people around. “Draco, don’t be thinking about murder. I wish the bloke were gone, I truly do, but I don’t want you to have a stain of murder on you, and when you talk like that, it…”

She didn’t need to finish. Draco knew exactly what she was implying. He was reminding her of her parents. 

“Alright,” he said dejectedly, taking her arm again and leading her out into the courtyard. “Are you okay, though? Has he approached you… multiple times?”

Kit was hesitant to answer. “No, just the once.”

Once. One time. And one time alone had left Kit with a nervous breakdown. Draco didn’t understand how she managed to sit in his class time and time again without needing to leave. He was embarrassed with himself for not yet having the guts to sit closer to her. He still didn’t want people seeing them being so affectionate, even just as friends. He didn’t want to be seen being friendly with her lot, either. He wished he could get over his stupid need to uphold his reputation. It was difficult, and problematic. It felt wrong for him to associate with Harry. He was trying to internalize what Blaise was teaching him, but he still didn’t fully believe anything. Besides, if word got out to his father or even his godfather…

“Draco?”

“Sorry,” he said, out of habit. “Zoned out again. Um… if he approaches you again, please let me know, okay?”

She winced. “I’ll try to.”

He sat down slowly on one of the benches, and she lowered herself beside him, leaning back and stretching her legs out, her robes billowing around her legs from the gentle breeze. 

“Kit,” Draco murmured, making her look at him. “I care about you. You know that, right?”

“Yes, Draco, I do,” she responded.

“You know I’ll protect you the best I can, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. How about this. Any time you’re not in your Common Room, have someone walk you to your dorm, please. Whenever you’re in Slytherin, I’ll walk you. If you’re in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, have someone go with you— doesn’t matter who. Diggory or Potter, even, I dunno.”

“Er— I don’t talk to Cedric anymore. But someone like Ernie Macmillan wouldn’t mind. It might just be awkward to ask. I kind of pride myself on being more independent. That’s the one thing that didn’t change even after I got hurt.”

The sadness in her eyes made him cup her cheek impulsively. Ever since the holidays, it was like she’d become another person, and in this moment, it was more apparent than ever. She no longer yelled out corrections to her friends, though she was still critical. She didn’t talk about Quidditch as much as she used to. She didn’t make all the snide remarks she had to anyone and everyone who harmed one of her friends. Blaise had told him that she didn’t rant about things anymore, almost like she now considered herself a burden and had forced herself into silence. Draco guessed that since Moody had hurt her almost right after her torture, it had further contributed to her change. Hell, she took notes in class. Back in September, that would have been the least likely thing for Kit to do. She was even taking notes in Moody’s class now, even though she hadn’t after the Unforgivable Curse lessons. She was extra cautious, as if worried he might call her in after class if she didn’t do something he wanted.

Kit slowly pushed his hand off of her face, and leaned back into bench, closing her eyes, her brows furrowed. 

What the hell had Moody done to her? Had he used an Unforgivable on her? Another sort of dark curse? Had he touched her or abused her in a way no person should ever be touched and abused? Had he threatened her with cruel words or with a violent hand? 

Draco didn’t know, and it was killing him.

_Comment for more :)_


	27. Chapter 27

**The following night, Kit finally found herself with an assigned detention for her previous outburst with Snape.**

Professor Flitwick seemed to have delayed it as much as possible, which she was thankful for because it gave her time to cool down a bit. But now as the summer term rolled in following the Easter holidays, she found she had to serve it.

“Wish me luck,” sighed Kit as she gathered her things in the Gryffindor Common Room. They had only just received Percy Weasley’s answer. Hedwig had also brought a package of Easter eggs for the trio. Both Harry’s and Ron’s were the size of dragon eggs and full of homemade toffee. Hermione’s, however, was smaller than a chicken egg. Kit hadn’t received one at all, probably because she hadn’t yet met Mrs. Weasley formally, but that was nothing compared to the tiny thing Hermione had gotten.

“Your mum doesn’t read Witch Weekly, by any chance, does she, Ron?” Hermione had asked, crestfallen.

“Yeah,” Ron had replied, with a mouth full of toffee. “Gets it for the recipes.”

Kit winced, and Harry had quickly offered to read Percy’s letter, which had been short and irritated.

_As I am constantly telling the Daily Prophet, Mr. Crouch is taking a well-deserved break. He is sending in regular owls with instructions. No, I haven’t actually seen him, but I think I can be trusted to know my own superior’s handwriting. I have quite enough to do at the moment without trying to quash these ridiculous rumors._

_Please don’t bother me again unless it’s something important. Happy Easter._

“Somehow, I thought he was nicer than this,” mused Kit. “He was really nice to me before when I’d see him with Penelope in the halls.”

Regardless, the lack of information on Crouch had left the rest of their time together being dull, as Hermione was still hurt by Mrs. Weasley’s not-so-subtle gesture. 

Kit left the Common Room, glad that many students were still out in the halls. She took the long way to the dungeons to purposely avoid the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom as well as Moody’s office.

To her dismay, Snape awaited her in the Potions classroom, seated on his desk and apparently grading papers.

“You know what to do, Thompson,” he drawled, pointing a lazy finger toward the cabinet with the cleaning supplies. She shuffled toward it wordlessly, grasping the duster first and beginning to drag it elegantly over every nook and cranny of the classroom.

Neither of them spoke for the first hour. Kit took her time dusting, thinking hateful things about Snape in her head for entertainment. Then, she transitioned to sweeping, moving the stools around as loudly as she could to bother Snape, though he didn’t register even hearing her.

Once she had moved on to scrubbing over the desks, she heard the door open, and she thought perhaps Flitwick would come and save her from this labor, but to her absolute horror, the man that stood in the doorway was not Flitwick, rather Mad-Eye Moody.

She tried to pretend that this didn’t bother her, but it did. The man limped in, casting her a look before heading to Snape’s desk. She was frozen, just staring, the sponge dripping soapy liquid onto the desk. She was trying to control her breathing, but her chest ached. It was already bad enough to be stuck here with Snape. But Snape and Moody? Would they gang up on her? Ridicule her? Or worse?

“See you’ve got a little maid here,” chuckled Moody as he leaned against the blackboard. “What’d she do this time? She’s a troublemaker, this one.”

“Thompson always manages to earn herself detentions in my class,” said Snape, not looking up. He absolutely despised Moody. He didn’t want him in his classroom. “I suppose some children just act out from a lack of attention back home.”

Kit was still frozen as Moody zoomed his eye over her. She felt her cheeks heat up as she watched it move up and down. She was behind the desk, but she knew that stupid thing could see through basically everything…

“I should take a leaf out of your book, Snape,” huffed Moody casually. “I actually haven’t given a detention yet. I go by my motto, of course, constant vigilance! Nothing goes unseen in my classroom. But nothing has caught my eye yet to be worth a detention.”

“Perhaps I got the short end of the stick,” said Snape boredly, looking up at Kit. “I always seem to get the dunces and brats in the same class. No other Professor gives as many detentions as I. It’s as if every student chooses my class to be idiots in.” He glared at Kit once he realized she hadn’t moved in awhile. “Thompson, those desks aren’t going to clean themselves.”

Kit’s hand trembled as she started to clean again. Her head snapped down, not wanting to look at Moody. Yet, she was still unbelievably scared. She could feel sweat beading on her forehead. Her stomach was churning, and the smell of the soap was suddenly foul. 

Moody and Snape began to talk, but Kit couldn’t hear it properly. There was a buzzing in her ears. She forced herself to scrub harder, trying to finish faster. She still had to scrub the floors. She wanted to leave as soon as possible, get away from here.

She was still shaking when she grabbed another sponge, and unfortunately, Moody was still there. The last thing she wanted to do was get down on the floor, her back or side facing him, to clean the floors. She glanced back and saw his eye was still moving around, looking her over. 

“When you’re done, Thompson, I can walk you back to your Common Room,” offered Moody once she forced herself to get on the floor and start scrubbing. “Dangerous times we’re in.”

It seemed, however, that this had triggered something in Snape. “No, Moody,” he said flatly. “She will be here for awhile. I suggest you leave.” He sounded annoyed that Moody had been there so long, granted how he’d talked to Snape that day on the staircase. Another thing: he sounded suspicious. 

Moody’s gaze flickered over Snape, as if angry he had told him to get out. But he nodded his head and limped out. 

The instant the door closed behind him, Kit sniffled, keeping her head down so Snape wouldn’t see. She scrubbed the floor as noisily as she could to conceal the fact she’d begun to cry. Her tears dripped down over the soap, and she hated it. She hated everything about this. She hated she was here, cleaning, just because Snape was an unfair and cruel git. She hated that Moody kept trying to catch her alone and staring at her. She hated that her parents were mixed in with dangerous people and were in turn, getting her hurt.

When she finished cleaning the floor near Snape’s desk, she quickly wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and extracted her wand, waving it to dry the floors instantly. She sniffled a bit too loudly, and went to put the supplies away. 

“Thompson,” said Snape once she had closed the cabinet door. “We need to have a conversation. Come with me.”

Terrified, Kit gathered her things and slowly followed him out of the classroom door. He said nothing to her as he walked in the direction of the Slytherin Common Room. She hugged her bag to her chest, looking down. What was this all about?

He was still not saying anything, even when he opened the door to the Slytherin Common Room and walked inside. He motioned for her to wait by the door, and went down one of the staircases to the boys’ dormitories.

Snape was no idiot. He prided himself on being intelligent, and in this case, it didn’t take a genius to realize that something was off. He had noticed that Kit’s outburst had changed when he mentioned Moody. He was unsure why, thinking perhaps her parents had instilled in her a fear of him, or perhaps she had lost her argument when he retaliated with the loss of House points.

But now, he knew that it was more than that. One, why would Moody come to his classroom? They didn’t respect each other in the slightest. Snape had thought perhaps Moody had come to berate him, but their conversation had been about Dumbledore, and the Ministry, and his Auror work. Not only that, but Snape wasn’t blind. He saw that Moody’s magical eye was looking over at Kit practically the entire time. Then finally, he had tried to leave with her. 

Snape was not about to turn into a therapist and urge her to tell him what was going on. No, he’d never stoop down to that level. But he did know that perhaps there was a part of the equation that could be filled by a certain young man with platinum blond hair.

Minutes later, Kit saw Snape and Draco emerge. Draco ran to her immediately, grasping her hand and leading her down, ignoring Snape completely.

“What did he tell you?” she asked worriedly as he dragged her into his dorm. Blaise was inside, flopped on his bed and practicing a few charms on a stack of books. Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere in sight, and only Theodore Nott remained, rummaging in his trunk.

“Theo, out,” growled Draco. Theodore looked up, confused. “I said get out!” snapped Draco. The boy rolled his eyes and trudged out of the room.

Once Theo was gone, he yanked Kit into the lavatory, leaving Blaise looking confused. 

“Rather charming,” mumbled Kit. “A bathroom, really? Should I make myself comfortable sitting on one of the toilets?”

“Well, this is the most private place I could think of,” he hissed. “Blaise doesn’t know about the Moody thing yet.”

“Okay, fine. Now, what the hell did Snape tell you?”

“About the detention and how Moody came in. He said something was off and he thought I knew. I said I didn’t. He was going to owl your father but I convinced him not to. He told me to tell you he’s not giving you more detentions this term, so long as you try and keep your mouth shut.”

“Oh, he couldn’t say that to my face?” she mumbled.

“He’s not good at talking to people,” sighed Draco. “He only talks to me normally because of my father.” He put his hands on her shoulders and rubbed them gently. “Are you okay?”

Kit’s lip trembled, and she started to cry again. “H-He won’t leave me alone!” she whimpered. “He w-won’t stop l-looking at me! I don’t know what the bloody hell he wants with me!”

She leaned forward, and Draco caught her, pulling her into a tight hug as she began to bawl. The sound of her crying brought tears into his own eyes. She was trying to muffle the sound in his chest, but it was uncontrollably loud. Her hands shook as she gripped him forcefully, and Draco leaned his head down on top of hers. 

**_**

Things did not get better from there. Next thing she knew, Viktor Krum had apparently been attacked by a delusional Barty Crouch during the last week of May. 

“It comes down to this,” said Hermione, once they got together to discuss it. “Either Mr. Crouch attacked Viktor, or somebody else attacked both of them when Viktor wasn’t looking.”

“It must’ve been Crouch,” said Ron at once. “That’s why he was gone when Harry and Dumbledore got there. He’d done a runner.”

“I don’t think so,” said Harry, shaking his head. “He seemed really weak— I don’t reckon he was up to Disapparating or anything.”

“You can’t Disapparate on the Hogwarts grounds, haven’t I told you enough times?” said Hermione, making Blaise smirk. He had come inside the Gryffindor Common Room wearing Kit’s tie, even though everyone knew he was a Slytherin. Kit found it intriguing that he suddenly hadn’t minded going into another Common Room. 

“Okay... how's this for a theory,” said Ron excitedly. “Krum attacked Crouch— no, wait for it— and then Stunned himself!”

“I don’t know if Krum would be alive if he Stunned himself,” mused Blaise. “That sounds like it would be dangerous.”

“And what about Mr. Crouch?” challenged Hermione. “Did he evaporate?”

Kit had fully intended to continue to be part of the conversation, but the next day they had proposed going to talk to Moody, which left her to respectfully withdraw from the conversation and head to the Ravenclaw Common Room. She tried to ignore the weird looks Blaise and Hermione gave her. Despite them being some of her best friends, she definitely didn’t want them to know. It was bad enough that Draco knew and was putting himself in danger. Moody had definitely noticed by now that Draco was around Kit in public almost all the time since his appearance in the Potions classroom. 

Kit found herself flopped on the couch of the Ravenclaw Common Room not long after, near where Su, Mimi, Terry, and Anthony were doing Divination work. 

“There you are, Kit,” chirped Mimi as she looked up. “Answer this for me, would you? Should I dye my hair darker or lighter?”

Kit squinted and looked over her hair. “Hmm… maybe lighter.”

“HA!” shrieked Mimi, pointing at Terry. “Told you she’d say lighter! You owe me five Sickles.”

“Woman, I barely have five Knuts,” huffed Terry, laying back on the floor. “I used all my money when I took you to Honeydukes last Hogsmeade visit!”

“Okay, fine, but I did insist I could pay and you refused,” Mimi said before going back to her homework.

“See, this isn’t a problem for us,” Anthony said proudly, gesturing to Su and himself. “We make our dates strictly friendly, half and half until we’re ready for a relationship.”

Kit didn’t think that necessarily meant anything, since she felt it proper for it to constantly be a half and half sort of thing, but she just nodded and buried her face in the cushions.

“Hey, Kit,” said Mimi, making her look up lazily. “What’s with you and Malfoy? Saw him hugging you in the hallway the other day. You two have been getting rather friendly…”

Kit flushed. She hadn’t yet told them about the arranged marriage. Only Su knew. “Um… we’ve just been reconnecting, you know. He’s been acting quite nice.”

“Malfoy, nice?” scoffed Terry. “You sure you’re not hallucinating?”

“I’m not hallucinating!” said Kit. “You don’t know him like I do. He’s a subtle sweetheart.”

“Is he a good snog too?” teased Anthony. Kit turned even redder. “I haven’t kissed him, Anthony!”

“Well, you should!” urged Mimi. “He’s a doll. He looks like a splendid kisser.”

Kit rolled her eyes. “He hasn’t kissed anyone. How good can he be?”

“Ooh, you’re considering it,” teased Mimi. 

“Am not!” Kit said, though her pink cheeks said otherwise.

“Nothing wrong with it if you are,” said Mimi with a shrug. “Sometimes curiosities need to be nurtured. You’ve only kissed one other guy and that was for less than three seconds.”

“Hold on, you’ve never snogged anyone?” asked Terry, apparently looking for a good conversation to avoid doing his work.

Kit shook her head. “No. I’ve dreamt about it… which is weird, because I don’t know how my brain can come up with scenarios I’ve never been in.”

Mimi and Su shared a sly look. “You need to go talk to Padma, Lisa, and Mandy.”

Kit scrunched up her nose. “Why? They don’t talk to me much. For good reasons too, they don’t like how I am as a person.”

“Still, they’re Housemates, they can give good kissing tips! Especially Lisa.”

“Er— I’ll consider it,” said Kit. 

“Just a tip from us, then,” said Terry. “Go for it. That’s the best advice I can give. Don’t expect him to make the first move.”

Kit shook her head rapidly and patted her temples. “Jeez, we need to stop talking about me snogging Draco.”

“Well, if you’re not into snogging, you could always go straight to—”

“Anthony!” hissed Su. The boys shared a look and laughed, while the girls gave out a collective, exasperated sigh.

Naturally, all the talk about kissing got rooted into Kit’s head. She felt so inexperienced. Sure she had kissed a guy, but she had never had a boyfriend. What was that like? Would she and Cedric have been a good pair if it had come to that? 

She decided later in the evening to ask Roger Davies to walk her to the Slytherin Common Room. She needed to see Blaise and Draco. 

“So, how has your term?” asked Kit as they walked. She was pleased Roger had accepted. “I noticed you started cancelling quite a few practices.”

Roger sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I’ve been super stressed. Plus, Grant, Duncan, and Jason all got their offers for professional teams already. There’s no point in practicing when we’re all trying to work on classes. Cho has her O.W.L.s soon, the aforementioned three have their N.E.W.T.s, and Norman, Bradley, and I have our career counseling sessions with Flitwick. You’ll see when you get to sixth year— those can be taxing, especially since we all want to play professionally but also need to have careers prepared on the side.”

“I can’t wait for next school year to come,” sighed Kit. “Playing in actual matches again will be amazing.” Not only that, but next school year, Moody would be gone. 

“Same, I want to get my final year over with. Chester’s urging me to come to America with him and try and play in their leagues while building whatever side career I want. I think I’m going to do it. Our parents have a house pretty close to Ilvermorny, in the surrounding area under Mount Greylock. We don’t have any other relatives here, and my mum and dad have ties with MACUSA, they could definitely get positions—”

Suddenly, Roger stopped. Kit looked up, and gasped, seeing his eyes were wide open, his mouth not fully closed. She whirled around. Mad-Eye Moody was limping straight toward her.

Her first instinct was to run. Her second was to withdraw her wand and blast him into oblivion in whatever way she could. But she froze. She hadn’t even heard him come up. And now, he seemed to have stunned Roger. His wand was already out, and he would easily disable her no matter what she did.

“That’s a good girl,” said Moody darkly as he limped over to her faster than she thought he was able to. “Stay put. We need to talk.”

Within seconds, he’d seized her throat, pushing her to the wall. “You told. You told, and I thought I made it quite clear that you were supposed to keep your mouth shut.”

“I— I didn’t!” she choked. “I didn’t tell anyone!”

“Oh yeah? Then why is the Malfoy brat around you all the time? Why did Professor Snape become a good samaritan and escort you out of a stupid detention? Why did I overhear him talking to Professor Flitwick and stating that he didn’t think it was healthy for you to have any more late night detentions? You told, and for that, I’ll make sure to get my hands on that filthy Mudblood friend of yours!”

“No!” squeaked Kit fearfully, her eyes tearing up once more. “I didn’t tell! D-Draco is— he’s the guy I have to marry!”

Moody stopped. Clearly, he hadn’t yet heard about that. “What did you say?” he growled. 

“A-Arranged marriage,” she gasped, his hand having contracted and squeezed her throat harder. “H-Have to marry him!”

He dropped her harshly, pointing his wand at her face as she coughed and grasped her own throat, feeling it aching. “Tell me more. Now, or I’ll kill your friend here.”

“O-Our parents did it before the Yule Ball,” she said desperately. “I haven’t told many people… neither has he!” She was struggling to keep her voice steady. “He’s been advocating for me because o-of what my parents do.”

He grunted and jabbed the wand nearly in her eye, making her shut them both immediately and cower back. “Am I supposed to believe that?” he snarled. 

“Y-Yes b-because it’s the t-truth!” she stammered. “H-H-He thinks something is w-wrong but h-he doesn’t k-know anything! H-He thinks i-it’s Snape.” That was a lie, but it made sense, at least in her mind. All she needed was for Moody to fall for it.

He sneered and got down to her level, pressing the wand back on her throat. “If I find out that he does know… I’ll make sure that you find him in pieces.” He reached his other hand to grasp her hair, pulling it hard and making her whimper. “Aw, am I making you cry? You’re weaker than your sister.”

Weaker than her sister? That didn’t make sense. What would Mad-Eye Moody have to do with her sister? 

“You are nothing compared to Alana,” he snarled furiously. “She was supposed to be mine. But no… your stupid parents chose someone else for her. Who the hell do they think they are, hmm? Why do they think they are more loyal to the Dark Lord? Is it the curses? Tell me… what have they used on you?”

Kit wasn’t about to answer, and he shook her angrily, making her sob. “TELL ME!” he spat in her face before backhanding her. 

“I-I-Imperius!” she squeaked, making him press the wand harder into her neck. It burned. “A-And— and— C-Crucio…”

“Ahhh… They haven’t used those better ones… have they?”

She vaguely recalled him mentioning it before. 

_“They’re still the same as always, eh? Using their curses for power… the Thompsons and Smiths were always good at their Unforgivables, you know, they developed newer and more dangerous forms of them…”_

But she didn’t answer quick enough for his liking. Again, a hard slap on her face, making her entire head snap to the side this time. “I asked you a question!”

“N-N— No!” she cried. “I-I don’t k-know— I don’t—”

“You haven’t heard of it? Yet, they relish in the power it gave them… they really are weaker than everyone thinks them to be. Soon, I will have no problem overpowering them. I will be a better servant to the Dark Lord than they ever were!” He grasped her throat again. “Your parents are capable of spells that Professors here don’t even know about. Your great great grandparents and before… they made variations of the Unforgivables that always got them what they wanted. Brain-washing? They have a spell for it. Tortures even worse than the Transmogrifian… yes, that’s why the Dark Lord and even Grindelwald wanted them as servants. They knew how to get answers from people. But it seems now... they’re not as loyal as they used to be.”

Kit had tears cascading down her cheeks. Her entire body ached, and she could still see Roger frozen in place in her peripheral vision. Moody chuckled darkly and patted the cheek where he hadn’t slapped her. “You’ve been useful today with the information you gave… perhaps I’ll let your friends live. But remember… you keep your mouth shut. Now… go stay somewhere that no one will find you. I don’t need anyone seeing you with those marks on your face or your neck. You already let that idiot boy get too suspicious. As I said before... I can leave him in pieces for you to find.”

He let go of her and waved his wand, making Roger’s body float behind him. Still struggling to breathe, Kit pulled her robes up to hide her bruised neck and face, and stood shakily, leaning back against the wall. 

She began to walk, unsure where her feet were taking her. She hugged herself, her face stiff from the drying tears. She found herself going in no particular direction. She stared at her feet, not wanting to meet the eye of any of the portraits she would inevitably come across. How she wished there had been portraits in the hallway where Moody had ambushed her and Roger. They would have let someone know. But then, she supposed that’d been why Moody attacked her there… and it didn’t help that he also had the Marauder’s Map.

She finally came to a stop before the statue of Gunhilda the Gorsemoor, the one eyed witch statue that had a secret passageway to Hogsmeade. Harry had told her about it months back when he had first shown her the Marauder’s Map, and now, her subconscious seemed to think it a perfect hiding place. She carefully slipped in and slid down, finding herself in the dark. She extracted her wand with a shaky hand, lighting it up dimly, before collapsing on the floor and beginning to sob anew.


	28. Chapter 28

**As the last task rolled around, Kit found herself increasingly overwhelmed.**

How she wished her tongue and vocal cords would just form the words that her brain was refraining from sharing. 

Since that night, she had felt herself falling apart all over again. She had prayed that Roger Davies remembered something, but when she’d seen him, he recalled nothing, and told her all over again that he was stressed and was cancelling practice for all those reasons….

She hadn’t gone to the Slytherin Common Room that night, or the next, or any night after that. She could feel Draco’s stare on her constantly. Every time he tried to subtly ask what was wrong, she’d brush it off. Blaise was suspicious, of course, but Kit had taken care of that.

“So, what’s up?” Blaise asked her during a study session in the library. “You don’t come around anymore.”

Her initial response was just staring, because she was unsure what to actually say. But then, she had known what would rationalize it without making him suspicious.

“I think I fancy Draco,” she said casually. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. She had been wondering it, ever so randomly, along with wondering what it might have been like to receive a kiss from Draco. She wasn’t sure what her feelings were, aside from a rekindled friendship. 

Blaise’s eyebrows shot up, and he leaned forward, now more engaged, his eyes shining curiously, and his mouth twisting up into a smile. “Really?”

“I think so,” said Kit, blushing and looking down for the effect. “I can’t stop thinking about him.”

This was also true. Even when she hadn’t been hanging out with him as often, all she could think of was him. At night when she lay in her dorm thinking how she didn’t visit out of fear to be in the hallway, she found herself smiling a bit amidst the paranoia. He was so protective of her. There was hope for him, even though she feared that Lucius would attempt to corrupt him the instant he found out what kind of person Draco was now. 

“Well, what are you going to do about it?” asked Blaise eagerly. “Are you going to tell him?”

Kit’s eyes widened. “Oh, Merlin, no! That’d be too impulsive. Besides… I dunno. I would think he may accept, considering how he acts. But he also might reject me. And what if it ruins things? What if we have a terrible break up and then our arranged marriage is still standing and just… ugh. No, I can’t tell him. That’d be the stupidest thing I could do.”

Blaise looked highly disappointed. “Kit, I highly doubt you’d have a bad breakup—”

“Well maybe not but I don’t think telling him now is the right thing to do.”

“But Kit, maybe you should be honest right now—”

“Blaise, I know that perhaps Draco and I are your dream pair, just like you and Hermione are to me—”

“Woah! Hermione and I—”

“—but it’s not happening. We’re not even fifteen yet, and they say people change a lot in O.W.L. year and sixth year. Draco and I are barely becoming friends again— it’s been less than a year, and I’m not going to jump into anything like a relationship given our situation. We’re both still under our parents’ control and his father could hurt him if he saw him being too soft. There’s too many factors going into it, Blaise. If things go well for the next two years… maybe I’ll tell him in our seventh year or something.”

Blaise let out a soft sigh. “You’re right. Sorry, I shouldn’t have insisted.”

“Don’t be sorry. I… I’m not ready for a relationship either way. Eventually, maybe, I will be.”

Just like that, Blaise had fallen for it. He had believed that this was her reason for avoiding the Slytherin Common Room, and he’d been fine with it. Of course, he still clearly suspected something else was going on, but he hadn’t voiced his questions about it.

Truly, Kit wanted to tell someone. She wanted to owl Sirius or slip a note to Flitwick, or stay behind and spill everything to McGonagall. She wished she could sit Blaise and Draco down and carefully tell them every detail so they could keep her safe. 

That was where the trust issues and the paranoia came in. 

Moody had gotten violent when he had assumed she told. And even now, not a single prefect or Professor had been able to catch him. Ever since the Quirrell ordeal with the three headed dog and finding out the Chamber of Secrets was real, Kit hadn’t trusted Hogwarts was safe at all. This made it worse. Would she ever be safe? Would her friends be safe?

Who could she trust? She had thought Moody was one of the best Aurors, and he turned out to be nothing but a scumbag. And Dumbledore? No, she would never trust that man. What would he even do in response? Moody was one of his friends. Dumbledore could be just as creepy…

The paranoia. What the hell would Moody do to her, to her friends? Would he have enough time to hurt them before someone did something? Would anyone do anything? Would they believe her? She was too much of a troublemaker. Perhaps they’d get her in trouble for even suggesting that Moody could do something like that. 

Just like before, she found herself crying. She hated it. The feeling of tears in her eyes, how it made her nose run, how it made her look all blotchy and weird, how it made her feel weak. It was pitiful but she couldn’t stop. Now that Roger had cancelled any and all Quidditch practices previously scheduled to take place in the flat area near the Pitch, she took that time between classes to go cry. After, she’d wash her face and find Su to ask her for makeup tips in the remainder of the free period. No one suspected anything. Su was even encouraging her to keep washing her face before. 

Kit wished her friends could read minds. But would she even actually want them to know the details? They were in danger because she couldn’t gather up the courage to tell. And if she told, she’d be putting them in a worse type of danger either way.

She tried to focus on the final task, just like everyone else. Once June had settled in, everything was excited and tense all over again. Kit, Blaise, Hermione, and Ron had taken to helping Harry with learning spells and hexes for the final task.

It turned out that they were a good combination of teachers. Ron was basically in charge, making notes and suggestions of what Harry should be learning. He wasn’t basing his choices off of research like Hermione was, rather through experience based on what he’d heard from his father and older brother. The others were recommending things here and there. Hermione had done most of the research about spells, while Blaise and Kit had done most of the teaching. 

Blaise, as it turned out, was an excellent teacher. While Hermione tried to show things to Harry based off the textbooks and her notes, Blaise deviated and instead was the one who took in what she was saying, to then tell it to Harry in a way that he understood. Blaise had worded things so well that Harry had been grasping concepts better than usual. Kit was pleased to see how good the boys were getting along. Blaise was becoming more and more of a regular in their group.

Kit, of course, was still impatient as always, but the recurring anxiety whenever she thought back to Moody due to his name being mentioned so often (it seemed he’d recommended this for Harry) had left her being a good enough teacher. Blaise and Hermione were taking care of charms, while she had been more involved with hexes and transfiguration spells that might come in handy. She had been especially useful in teaching Harry the Shield Charm, as he had struggled to get it right. 

Aside from the training, Harry had let Kit and even Blaise know that Sirius was sending daily owls to check on Harry. It seemed Dumbledore had told Harry that he thought Voldemort was growing stronger. Kit felt a great panic sweep through her when he told her, since Moody seemed to be tied to him. And yet, with that imminent fear, she couldn’t bring herself to speak up. Knowing his ties to her parents, her sister, and the Dark Lord… more the reason for her to rationalize staying quiet. She could barely process why this was happening to her. Now, he was just more dangerous. 

The morning of the third task, on June twenty fourth, Kit thought that maybe things wouldn’t be so bad. Harry was prepared as ever. 

Unfortunately, the idiotic Rita Skeeter had made things significantly worse. Her new article had been owled to everyone that morning. 

**‘HARRY POTTER DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS’**

_The boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is unstable and possibly dangerous, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Alarming evidence has recently come to light about Harry Potter’s strange behavior, which casts doubts upon his suitability to compete in a demanding competition like the Triwizard Tournament, or even to attend Hogwarts School._

_Potter, the Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal, regularly collapses at school, and is often heard to complain of pain in the scar on his forehead (relic of the curse with which You-Know- Who attempted to kill him). On Monday last, midway through a Divination lesson, your Daily Prophet reporter witnessed Potter storming from the class, claiming that his scar was hurting too badly to continue studying._

_It is possible, say top experts at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, that Potters brain was affected by the attack inflicted upon him by You- Know-Who, and that his insistence that the scar is still hurting is an expression of his deep-seated confusion._

_“He might even be pretending,” said one specialist. “This could be a plea for attention.”_

_The Daily Prophet, however, has unearthed worrying facts about Harry Potter that Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, has carefully concealed from the wizarding public._

_“Potter can speak Parseltongue,” reveals Theodore Nott, a Hogwarts fourth year. “There were a lot of attacks on students a couple of years ago, and most people thought Potter was behind them after they saw him lose his temper at a dueling club and set a snake on another boy. It was all hushed up, though. But he’s made friends with werewolves and giants too. We think he’d do anything for a bit of power.”_

_Parseltongue, the ability to converse with snakes, has long been considered a Dark Art. Indeed, the most famous Parselmouth of our times is none other than You-Know-Who himself. A member of the Dark Force Defense League, who wished to remain unnamed, stated that he would regard any wizard who could speak Parseltongue “as worthy of investigation. Personally, I would be highly suspicious of anybody who could converse with snakes, as serpents are often used in the worst kinds of Dark Magic, and are historically associated with evildoers.” Similarly, “anyone who seeks out the company of such vicious creatures as werewolves and giants would appear to have a fondness for violence.”_

_Albus Dumbledore should surely consider whether a boy such as this should be allowed to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Some fear that Potter might resort to the Dark Arts in his desperation to win the tournament, the third task of which takes place this evening._

“Gone off me a bit, hasn’t she?” said Harry lightly, folding up the paper.

Kit whirled around to face the Slytherin table, where Theo was guffawing at the paper, with Pansy now holding onto his arm. Seemed she had finally moved on from Draco since Draco didn’t trash talk anymore. She scrunched up her nose, and looked around, seeing Draco was nowhere near them. Where had he gone?

“How did she know your scar hurt in Divination?” Ron said, making Kit turn back to them. “There’s no way she was there, there’s no way she could’ve heard—” 

“The window was open,” said Harry. “I opened it to breathe.”

“You were at the top of North Tower!” Hermione said. “Your voice couldn’t have carried all the way down to the grounds!”

“Well, you’re the one who’s supposed to be researching magical methods of bugging!” said Harry. “You tell me how she did it!”

“I’ve been trying!” said Hermione. “But I... but...”

An odd, dreamy expression suddenly came over Hermione’s face. She slowly raised a hand and ran her fingers through her hair.

“Are you all right?” said Ron, frowning at her.

“Yes,” said Hermione breathlessly. She ran her fingers through her hair again. “I’ve had an idea. I think I know... because then no one would be able to see... even Moody... and she’d have been able to get onto the window ledge... but she’s not allowed... she’s definitely not allowed... I think we’ve got her! Just give me two seconds in the library— just to make sure!”

Just like that, Hermione was gone. 

“Oy!” Ron called after her. “We’ve got our History of Magic exam in ten minutes!”

“Ooh, I failed that,” said Kit, furrowing her eyebrows. “I really am not good at remembering anything historical. I’m the worst in Ravenclaw House for the subject.”

“Hermione’s the best for us!” said Ron, finally turning back to them once Hermione was completely out of sight. “Blimey, she must really hate that Skeeter woman to risk missing the start of an exam. What’re you going to do in Binns’s class— read again?”

“S’pose so,” Harry said. Just then, Professor McGonagall came walking alongside the Gryffindor table toward him.

“Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast,” she said.

“But the task’s not till tonight!” said Harry, accidentally spilling scrambled eggs down his front, afraid he had mistaken the time.

“I’m aware of that, Potter,” she said simply. “The champions’ families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them.” She moved away, and Kit checked Ron’s watch. 

“Well, I’ve got to get to my Herbology exam,” sighed Kit, waving at the boys and departing, not realizing that Harry had remained behind looking very confused. 

After her exam, she returned for lunch. Before she could go to the Gryffindor table, she was stopped by Cedric.

“Hey,” he said quietly, grinning a bit.

She offered him a small smile. “Hi… um, good luck tonight.”

“Thank you. Here— meet my parents.”

Kit’s eyes widened immediately as Cedric’s parents came out from behind him, having been seated at the Hufflepuff table.

“Nice to meet you,” Mrs. Diggory said, taking Kit into her arms. Mr. Diggory took Kit’s hand and shook it while she was still hugging his wife. 

“Cedric’s told us plenty about you,” he said. “Says you’re brilliant, and that you play Quidditch as well!”

“Er— thank you. I’m Kit Thompson, nice to meet you.”

“Yes, yes, I met you when you were a little girl,” Mr. Diggory said pleasantly. “Your mother brought you to deliver something to your father before he was Head of Magical Law Enforcement. You’ve grown so much.”

Kit wasn’t able to let her confusion be processed, because soon, they bade her farewell. It seemed Cho had come in, and Cedric had taken his parents over for her to meet them.

Not wanting to make Cho think something was going on, she left quickly, seeing that Ron’s family was here for the third task— to watch Harry. 

“Oh, Mum, this is Kit!” said Ginny once she approached. “Ron and I’s friend that I mentioned.”

“Are you saying she’s not our friend?” asked the twins in unison, making Kit giggle slightly as she shook Mrs. Weasley’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. And you two—” she looked at the twins. “We are friends. We just don’t talk enough.”

“That’ll have to change,” George said, wiggling his eyebrows and making Kit smirk as she sat down. She was soon introduced to Bill Weasley as well. For a moment, she felt almost sad at the fact she had no siblings of her own— they seemed to get along so well (except for Percy). 

Halfway through lunch, Hermione arrived, and Kit recalled the tiny egg her friend had received for Easter. “Hello, Hermione,” said Mrs. Weasley, much more stiffly than usual.

“Hello,” said Hermione, her smile faltering at the cold expression on Mrs. Weasley’s face.

Harry looked between them, then said, “Mrs. Weasley, you didn’t believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in Witch Weekly, did you? Because Hermione’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh!” said Mrs. Weasley “No— of course I didn’t!”

But she became considerably warmer toward Hermione after that. Kit wondered why Ginny or Ron hadn’t owled their mother to set the facts straight.

Around the end of lunch before classes started again, Blaise came by to give Hermione a stack of parchment. It turned out that he had been borrowing her notes to study for his next exam.

“Here,” he said with a grin. “You’re an angel. I’m going to pass for sure. Normally, I can’t read what I write.”

Mrs. Weasley’s eyebrows had gone up immediately, and she had watched Blaise jog away after he gave them all a quick wave. Kit fought back the urge to smirk.

After the remainder of her exams, Kit had returned for dinner and once again found herself seated with the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, and even Blaise, to her surprise. As it turned out, Draco was still not around.

“Where is he?” Kit whispered as she wiped her mouth. 

“Dunno,” admitted Blaise. “I saw him in all our exams but he keeps rushing out after and I don’t know where he goes. Something is up.”

Kit grimaced visibly. She had a horrible feeling in her stomach. _Had he told?_

As the enchanted ceiling overhead began to fade from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table, and silence fell.

“Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes’ time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now.”

Harry got up. The Gryffindors all along the table were applauding him, while the Hufflepuffs cheered for Cedric. Kit saw him lean down and kiss Cho before heading out. 

“Good luck, Harry,” she said, though she found herself still watching Cedric.

Five minutes later, everyone was released to go. Kit hung back with Blaise to avoid the crowds, as Hermione promised to save them a spot as she went ahead with Ron.

As they reached the doors of the Great Hall, Kit finally caught a glimpse of Draco. Behind him were her parents, and his.

“Katherine.” Her parents walked up, and Kit stopped dead in her tracks. Draco gave her an apologetic look. _He told…. He told…_

“Draco invited us to watch the Tournament tonight,” her father said as he patted her shoulder. “He said that you had wanted us to come.”

Draco gave her a look as if to say ‘go along with it,’ so she calmly nodded. “Yes, I thought you might like it,” Kit said flatly. “We thought you might enjoy er— the thrill, especially since the two Hogwarts champions are tied.”

Her parents didn’t seem at all suspicious. In public, they looked normal, kind, and possibly even loving. Her mother came forward and used a small cloth to wipe her face gently. Her father greeted Blaise with a smile. Draco and Kit shared an awkward look. He knew it was all a falsehood.

As the Malfoys and Thompsons began to walk ahead, Draco hung back with Kit and Blaise.

“What the hell did you say to them?” Kit hissed lowly. 

“Nothing about that,” answered Draco calmly as he looped his arm in hers. “I was subtle. I convinced them that they should come see, take a break. I’d like them to be here if anything goes wrong.”

Kit felt her cheeks heat up. That was a sweet gesture. However, she didn’t get to thank Draco. Without even needing to look up, felt herself tense. Once her gaze transitioned toward who was at the doors, her heart rate accelerated instantly, and she tightened her grip on Draco’s arm.

“Ah, Mad-Eye,” Kenneth greeted him, nodding respectfully. “I heard you were teaching here. I’ve heard the Auror department misses you.”

Moody glared suspiciously over him, then Alison, then Lucius and Narcissa, and finally Draco, Kit, and Blaise. “Hmm. Kenneth. Who invited you?”

Apparently, this gruff behavior was still in character. Kenneth chuckled and patted Moody’s shoulder. “My future son-in-law, of course. Haven’t you heard? Katherine and Draco are to be married soon.”

“Why am I not surprised that the Malfoy and Thompson bloodlines are finally merging?” Moody huffed, his magical eye whizzing over Kit. She was gripping Draco’s arm painfully hard now, but he didn’t mind. “Didn’t Abraxas Malfoy nearly wed Alison?”

Kit’s mother seemed to dislike this mention. “No, he didn’t. He was far from my age, Mad-Eye, you should know that. We discussed this previously in your office when Kenneth and I were discussing enforcement policies.”

There was a heavy silence between them for a few seconds. Kit had never seen her mother so defensive with someone else— someone of such a reputation. Moody’s guard seemed down— he looked almost panicked. He had made some sort of mistake in remembering facts, and it was clear that Kit’s mother had caught onto it.

“Bah, teaching these kids is taxing on a man’s mind,” he huffed. “Surely you understand, Alison.”

Her face twitched a bit, as if this was stirring a deep memory. But her composure was quickly resolved. “Naturally. Now, excuse us. We’d like to get to our seats.”

Kit’s heart rate accelerated as her parents and godparents moved forward. She dug her nails into Draco’s hand as they passed Moody, who glared down at her. Blaise seemed to understand that something was wrong, because he yanked Kit and Draco forward.

She tried to stay calm as they got to some seats near the edge of the stands, where she could see Cedric and Harry positioned to enter. She looked up, seeing the deep, clear blue sky with stars barely beginning to appear. The weather was ideal, and the excitement was high.

Why then, did she feel so utterly terrified?

“Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin!” announced Lugo Bagman. “Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each— Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!” The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. “In second place, with eighty points— Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!” More applause. “And in third place— Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!”

Kit didn’t clap. She was busy holding onto Draco, who had put his other arm around her. Their parents were surely wondering what had brought about this change, but she didn’t care. She could feel Blaise’s suspicious look boring holes into her skull. He knew something was off, and he now knew that it had something to do with Moody...

“So... on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!” said Bagman. “Three— two— one—”

He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Harry and Cedric hurried forward into the maze.

“That’s Amos Diggory’s son, isn’t it?” inquired Narcissa from behind Kit.

“Yes, that is,” answered Kenneth. “I’m not sure whether I prefer for him, a Pureblood but unfortunate blood traitor, to win… or for it to be the Potter boy. I don’t take fancy to either foreign school champions. Nasty little brats…”

Kit looked back slightly and saw her father glaring in the direction of Karkaroff, who was near the Professors. Had something happened? Harry had mentioned Snape and Karkaroff having a discussion before. Was Karkaroff not in her parents’ good graces anymore?

Everything felt tense within ten minutes of all four of the champions entering the maze. The atmosphere, though pleasant, was suspicious, even amidst the heightened excitement. She couldn’t see Moody anywhere. Karkaroff was pacing now. The sky... was it just her eyes or was it darkening?

Something was terribly wrong. 


	29. Chapter 29

**Kit was having a difficult time focusing.**

Even though she was trying to force herself to look around for signs of danger, it was very difficult to maintain concentration on any individual fact.

Everyone was talking around her. She could hear their voices dully. Blaise and Draco were having a conversation from opposite sides of her, but she wasn’t taking part of it. She was still attempting to pinpoint any small detail that might let her be overt about danger in a way that wouldn’t let Moody know that she was throwing him under the bus…

“Excuse me.” Kit flinched and looked up as her parents passed in front of her.

“Where are you going?” Her own voice sounded far away, and foreign.

“I need to use the lavatory,” said Alison simply. “Your father is offering to help me— I’ve been experiencing some pain.”

She didn’t pay too much attention to it. She didn’t even notice when Lucius Malfoy walked past and Narcissa moved forward to chat with Draco and Blaise.

No, she didn’t notice anything much until all of the sudden, right before her eyes, Harry and Cedric slammed into the ground from out of thin air.

The crowd immediately stirred, most of them cheering and thinking that both the Hogwarts champions had won. Harry was holding Cedric with one arm and the Triwizard Cup in another. Kit stood, leaning forward and trying to see what was going on. 

Dumbledore ran forward, seizing Harry and turning him around. Many were leaving the stands and flooding closer. Kit let go of Draco’s arm, her eyebrows furrowing as her feet carried her down. 

Just as she was nearing, she heard the familiar voice of Cornelius Fudge. “My God— Diggory! Dumbledore— he’s dead!”

Kit felt her entire body go unbelievably cold. She was suddenly running, tearing forward and shoving people out of the way as the crowd repeated his words. “He’s dead!” “He’s dead!” “Cedric Diggory! Dead!”

“Harry, let go of him,” she heard Fudge’s voice say, probably because Harry was still holding on. “Harry, you can’t help him now. It’s over. Let go.”

“He wanted me to bring him back,” Kit heard Harry muttering. “He wanted me to bring him back to his parents...”

“That’s right. Harry... just let go now...”

Kit made it to the front just as Dumbledore bent down, raised Harry from the ground and set him on his feet. Harry swayed. The crowd around them jostled, fighting to get closer, pressing darkly in on him— “What’s happened?” “What’s wrong with him?” “Diggorys dead!”

Her eyes fixated down on Cedric’s body. All she could do was stare. His eyes were wide open, his skin had lost its color. No. No, this didn’t make sense. How was Cedric dead? She’d just seen him alive— she’d just talked to him. No, the problem was Moody— and where was he? 

“He’ll need to go to the hospital wing!” Fudge was saying loudly, trying to speak above the crowd while Kit stared blankly down at Cedric. “He’s ill, he’s injured— Dumbledore, Diggory’s parents, they’re here, they’re in the stands...”

That’s when she saw Moody again. “I’ll take Harry, Dumbledore, I’ll take him—” he was insisting, while Dumbledore tried to refuse— “No, I would prefer—”

“Dumbledore, Amos Diggory’s running... he’s coming over... Don’t you think you should tell him— before he sees—?”

Kit moved forward subconsciously, grabbing onto Harry and trying to pull him away from Moody as Dumbledore was swept away by Fudge. Moody immediately grabbed Kit as well, dragging her along with Harry. She looked back, still disoriented. Cedric had to still be alive, right? Anything else didn’t make sense. Right now, the biggest worry had to be Moody. 

Something pressed up against Kit’s lower back. She knew immediately that Moody had his wand there. She let out a small choking noise that would have never been heard from the screaming, crying, and gasping noises coming from the crowd. She saw Harry looked barely conscious. 

“What happened Harry?” Moody growled as he dragged Harry and Kit up the stone steps. 

“Cup was a Portkey,” said Harry weakly. “Took me and Cedric to a graveyard... and Voldemort was there... Lord Voldemort...”

“The Dark Lord was there? What happened then?” Moody sounded excited.

“Killed Cedric... they killed Cedric...”

“And then?”

“Made a potion... got his body back...”

“The Dark Lord got his body back? He’s returned?”

“And the Death Eaters came... and then we dueled...”

With a sickening feeling in her stomach, Kit let out another small gasp. Her parents. Lucius. Their sudden departure. 

“You dueled with the Dark Lord?”

“Got away... my wand... did something funny... I saw my mum and dad... they came out of his wand...”

“In here Harry... in here, and sit down... You’ll be all right now... drink this...”

They were shoved into Moody’s office. He sat Harry down and thrust a cup into his hands. “Drink it... you’ll feel better... come on, now. Harry, I need to know exactly what happened...”

Then, he moved Kit into a chair beside Harry. Moody leaned onto his desk, his wand down but still subtly pointed at Kit. It was a wordless threat— she had to keep quiet while he was talking to Harry, or else. 

“Voldemort’s back, Harry? You’re sure he’s back? How did he do it?” Moody asked eagerly.

“He took stuff from his father’s grave, and from Wormtail, and me,” said Harry.

“What did the Dark Lord take from you?” said Moody.

“Blood,” said Harry, raising his arm. He had a large cut, and Kit launched herself sideways, throwing up right on the floor. Normally, blood wouldn’t bother her, but that cut….

Moody let out his breath in a long, low hiss. “And the Death Eaters? They returned?”

“Yes,” said Harry. “Loads of them...”

“How did he treat them?” Moody asked quietly. “Did he forgive them?”

Harry stopped, and looked up, his eyes wide. “There’s a Death Eater at Hogwarts! There’s a Death Eater here— they put my name in the Goblet of Fire, they made sure I got through to the end—“

Harry tried to get up, but Moody pushed him back down. “I know who the Death Eater is,” Moody said quietly.

“Karkaroff?” said Harry wildly. “Where is he? Have you got him? Is he locked up?”

“Karkaroff?” said Moody with an odd laugh. “Karkaroff fled tonight, when he felt the Dark Mark burn upon his arm. He betrayed too many faithful supporters of the Dark Lord to wish to meet them... but I doubt he will get far. The Dark Lord has ways of tracking his enemies.”

“Karkaroff’s gone? He ran away? But then— he didn’t put my name in the goblet?” 

“No,” said Moody slowly. “No, he didn’t. It was I who did that.”

Harry was confused at first, but it seemed he was fully conscious again. He looked at Moody’s face, then his arm, then his wand, down at the pool of vomit, and finally at Kit. He moved to bolt up and grab his wand at the same time, but Moody slammed Harry back down and pressed the wand right into Kit’s forehead, making her squeak. 

“You’re going to tell me everything,” Moody snarled to Harry. “Or Thompson here gets her little face blown off. Tell me, did he forgive the scum who never even went to look for him? Those treacherous cowards who wouldn’t even brave Azkaban for him. The faithless, worthless bits of filth who were brave enough to cavort in masks at the Quidditch World Cup, but fled at the sight of the Dark Mark when I fired it into the sky.”

“You fired... What are you talking about...?” Kit began to cry. The man in the woods was Moody… the man in the woods was a Death Eater… the man in the woods had some sort of connection with her sister…. 

“I told you Harry... I told you. If there’s one thing I hate more than any other, it’s a Death Eater who walked free. They turned their backs on my master when he needed them most. I expected him to punish them. I expected him to torture them. Tell me he hurt them, Harry...” Moody’s face was suddenly lit with an insane smile. “Tell me he told them that I, I alone remained faithful... prepared to risk everything to deliver to him the one thing he wanted above all... you”

“You didn’t... it— it can’t be you...”

“Who put your name in the Goblet of Fire, under the name of a different school? I did. Who frightened off every person I thought might try to hurt you or prevent you from winning the tournament? I did. Who nudged Hagrid into showing you the dragons? I did. Who helped you see the only way you could beat the dragon? I did”

Moody’s lopsided mouth leered more widely than ever. It seemed Kit was no longer his focus. Kit had just been a part of a sickening plan made to get Harry. He had left her terrified so she wouldn’t tell anyone and ruin his plans...

“It hasn’t been easy, Harry, guiding you through these tasks without arousing suspicion. I have had to use every ounce of cunning I possess, so that my hand would not be detectable in your success. Dumbledore would have been very suspicious if you had managed everything too easily. As long as you got into that maze, preferably with a decent head start— then, I knew, I would have a chance of getting rid of the other champions and leaving your way clear. But I also had to contend with your stupidity. The second task... that was when I was most afraid we would fail. I was keeping watch on you, Potter. I knew you hadn’t worked out the egg’s clue, so I had to give you another hint—” 

“You didn’t,” Harry said hoarsely. “Cedric gave me the clue— Kit was there—”

“Who told Cedric to open it underwater? I did. I trusted that he would pass the information on to you. Decent people are so easy to manipulate, Potter. I was sure Cedric would want to repay you for telling him about the dragons, and so he did. But even then, Potter, even then you seemed likely to fail. I was watching all the time... all those hours in the library. Didn’t you realize that the book you needed was in your dormitory all along? I planted it there early on, I gave it to the Longbottom boy, don’t you remember? Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean. It would have told you all you needed to know about gillyweed. I expected you to ask everyone and anyone you could for help. Longbottom would have told you in an instant. But you did not... you did not... You have a streak of pride and independence that might have ruined all.

“So what could I do? Feed you information from another innocent source. You told me at the Yule Ball a house-elf called Dobby had given you a Christmas present. I called the elf to the staffroom to collect some robes for cleaning. I staged a loud conversation with Professor McGonagall about the hostages who had been taken, and whether Potter would think to use gillyweed. And your little elf friend ran straight to Snape’s office and then hurried to find you...”

Kit let out a small cry as Moody pressed his wand harder into her forehead. “You were so long in that lake, Potter, I thought you had drowned,” Moody snarled. “But luckily, Dumbledore took your idiocy for nobility, and marked you high for it. I breathed again.

“You had an easier time of it than you should have in that maze tonight, of course,” said Moody. “I was patrolling around it, able to see through the outer hedges, able to curse many obstacles out of your way. I Stunned Fleur Delacour as she passed. I put the Imperius Curse on Krum, so that he would finish Diggory and leave your path to the cup clear.”

Harry stared at Moody and Kit, back and forth, trying to process things. Kit could hardly understand what was going on, and it seemed even Harry was confused despite the fact he had been the centerpiece. All this talk about Cedric... about Harry... the maze... 

“The Dark Lord didn’t manage to kill you Potter, and he so wanted to,” whispered Moody. “Imagine how he will reward me when he finds I have done it for him. I gave you to him— the thing he needed above all to regenerate— and then I killed you for him. I will be honored beyond all other Death Eaters. I will be his dearest, his closest supporter... closer than a son...”

“The Dark Lord and I,” said Moody, and he looked completely insane now, towering over Harry, leering down at him, “have much in common. Both of us, for instance, had very disappointing fathers... very disappointing indeed. Both of us suffered the indignity, Harry, of being named after those fathers. And both of us had the pleasure... the very great pleasure... of killing our fathers to ensure the continued rise of the Dark Order!”

“You’re mad,” Harry cried out, “you’re mad!”

“Mad, am I?” said Moody, his voice rising uncontrollably. “We’ll see! We’ll see who’s mad, now that the Dark Lord has returned, with me at his side! He is back, Harry Potter, you did not conquer him— and now— I conquer you!”

Moody raised his wand away from Kit and pointed it at Harry— 

“Stupefy!” There was a blinding flash of red light, and Moody was thrown backward onto the office floor. Someone came and pulled Kit and Harry up, and Kit let out a sob, her body shaking again. 

“Thompson, stay still.” Snape was the one talking, but McGonagall was holding her. She covered her own mouth, letting her body sink down.

“H-He— he killed— He—” she hated her tongue, she hated her throat, why hadn’t it spoken up before? Cedric was dead, Harry had almost been killed, the Dark Lord had risen again—

“Come along, Potter and Thompson,” McGonagall whispered, pulling Kit up. “Come along... hospital wing...”

“No,” said Dumbledore sharply. “They must both stay.”

“But Dumbledore—”

“They need to be here. Harry must understand. Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery. He needs to know who has put him through the ordeal he has suffered tonight, and why. As for Kit… I am afraid I have only just become aware of what this man has been doing to her.”

“What?” Harry said, looking at Kit. “What does he mean—? Moody couldn’t have—?”

“This is not Alastor Moody,” said Dumbledore quietly. “You have never known Alastor Moody. The real Moody would not have removed you from my sight after what happened tonight. The moment he took you, I knew— and I followed. The only delay was that I was stopped by a certain Mr. Malfoy, who told me the truth that I had not been aware of.”

Dumbledore bent down over Moody’s limp form and put a hand inside his robes. He pulled out Moody’s hip flask and a set of keys on a ring. Then he turned to Professors McGonagall and Snape.

“Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess, and then go down to the kitchens and bring up the house-elf called Winky. Minerva, kindly go down to Hagrid’s house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog up to my office, tell him I will be with him shortly, then come back here.”

Kit sank back to the ground the instant Snape and McGonagall left. Dumbledore was saying something, but she couldn’t hear him. She could see him and Harry opening a trunk… climbing in and seeing another Mad-Eye Moody in terrible condition below… 

That’s when the fake Moody, unconscious on the floor, began to change. The pale-skinned, slightly freckled, man with a mop of fair hair that Kit had seen in the woods now lay before them, and with a gasp of horror, she realized who it was.

“No!” she croaked, her eyes watering. “B-Barty— oh god—” 

Dumbledore seemed to know that she was about to throw up again, because he handed her a small tin from across the room with a delicate wave. Kit retched into it, her vision blurry as she heard Snape and McGonagall return with the house elf Winky. 

“Crouch!” Snape said, stopping dead in the doorway. “Barty Crouch!”

“Good heavens,” said Professor McGonagall, stopping dead and staring down at the man on the floor.

Kit could hear Winky crying out once she saw him, but she was in too much shock to care. Barty Crouch Jr., he was indeed a contestant for her sister’s hand in marriage….

“He is simply Stunned, Winky,” said Dumbledore. “Step aside, please. Severus, you have the potion?”

Snape handed Dumbledore a small glass bottle of completely clear liquid: the Veritaserum with which he had threatened Harry in class. Dumbledore got up, bent over the man on the floor, and pulled him into a sitting position. He forced the man's mouth open and poured three drops inside it. Then he pointed his wand at the mans chest and said, “Ennervate.”

Crouch’s son opened his eyes. His face was slack, his gaze unfocused. Dumbledore knelt before him, so that their faces were level.

“Can you hear me?” Dumbledore asked quietly.

The man’s eyelids flickered.

“Yes,” he muttered.

“I would like you to tell us,” said Dumbledore softly, “how you came to be here. How did you escape from Azkaban?”

Crouch took a deep, shuddering breath, then began to speak in a flat, expressionless voice. “My mother saved me. She knew she was dying. She persuaded my father to rescue me as a last favor to her. He loved her as he had never loved me. He agreed. They came to visit me. They gave me a draft of Polyjuice Potion containing one of my mother’s hairs. She took a draft of Polyjuice Potion containing one of my hairs. We took on each other’s appearance.”

Winky was shaking her head, trembling. “Say no more. Master Barty, say no more, you is getting your father into trouble!” But Crouch took another deep breath and continued in the same flat voice.

“The dementors are blind. They sensed one healthy, one dying person entering Azkaban. They sensed one healthy, one dying person leaving it. My father smuggled me out, disguised as my mother, in case any prisoners were watching through their doors. My mother died a short while afterward in Azkaban. She was careful to drink Polyjuice Potion until the end. She was buried under my name and bearing my appearance. Everyone believed her to be me.”

This story. Kit knew it— she had indeed heard it. But the names had been different… her parents must have known she might overhear. Last she had known, this was the story of a couple they knew in America...

“And what did your father do with you, when he had got you home?” said Dumbledore quietly.

“Staged my mother’s death. A quiet, private funeral. That grave is empty. The house-elf nursed me back to health. Then I had to be concealed. I had to be controlled. My father had to use a number of spells to subdue me. When I had recovered my strength, I thought only of finding my master... of returning to his service.”

“How did your father subdue you?” said Dumbledore.

“The Imperius Curse,” Barty said. “I was under my father's control. I was forced to wear an Invisibility Cloak day and night. I was always with the house-elf. She was my keeper and caretaker. She pitied me. She persuaded my father to give me occasional treats. Rewards for my good behavior. The curse wasn’t strong enough. Kenneth Thompson had offered to help my father alter my memory permanently, just as he has done to so many, but my father refused.”

Time and time again the fake Moody had told Kit about how powerful her family was and the variations they knew of the Unforgivables. It was true? Who had her father used it on? How had he permanently altered the memories of others?

“Did anybody ever discover that you were still alive?” said Dumbledore softly. “Did anyone know except your father and the house-elf?”

“Yes,” said Crouch, his eyelids flickering again. “A witch in my father’s office. Bertha Jorkins. She came to the house with papers for my father's signature. He was not at home. Winky showed her inside and returned to the kitchen, to me. But Bertha Jorkins heard Winky talking to me. She came to investigate. She heard enough to guess who was hiding under the Invisibility Cloak. My father arrived home. She confronted him. He put a very powerful Memory Charm on her to make her forget what she’d found out. Too powerful. He said it damaged her memory permanently.”

“Why is she coming to nose into my masters private business?” sobbed Winky, the high pitched sound of her voice ringing almost painfully in Kit’s ears. “Why isn’t she leaving us be?”

“Tell me about the Quidditch World Cup,” said Dumbledore.

“Winky talked my father into it,” said Crouch. “She spent months persuading him. I had not left the house for years. I had loved Quidditch. Let him go, she said. He will be in his Invisibility Cloak. He can watch. Let him smell fresh air for once. She said my mother would have wanted it. She told my father that my mother had died to give me freedom. She had not saved me for a life of imprisonment. He agreed in the end.

“It was carefully planned. My father led me and Winky up to the Top Box early in the day. Winky was to say that she was saving a seat for my father. I was to sit there, invisible. When everyone had left the box, we would emerge. Winky would appear to be alone. Nobody would ever know.

“But Winky didn’t know that I was growing stronger. I was starting to fight my father’s Imperius Curse. Without realizing it, his refusal of Kenneth Thompson’s offer had ensured I would remain loyal to the Dark Lord. There were times when I was almost myself again. There were brief periods when I seemed outside his control. It happened, there, in the Top Box. It was like waking from a deep sleep. I found myself out in public, in the middle of the match, and I saw, in front of me, a wand sticking out of a boy's pocket. I had not been allowed a wand since before Azkaban. I stole it. Winky didn’t know. Winky is frightened of heights. She had her face hidden.”

“Master Barty, you bad boy!” whispered Winky, tears trickling between her fingers.

“So you took the wand,” said Dumbledore, “and what did you do with it?”

“We went back to the tent,” said Crouch. “Then we heard them. We heard the Death Eaters. The ones who had never been to Azkaban. The ones who had never suffered for my master. They had turned their backs on him. They were not enslaved, as I was. Especially those Thompsons… they were free to seek him, but they did not. Rather than going to find him, using the magic they bragged about, they were merely making sport of Muggles. The sound of their voices awoke me. My mind was clearer than it had been in years. I was angry. I had the wand. I wanted to attack them for their disloyalty to my master. My father had left the tent; he had gone to free the Muggles. Winky was afraid to see me so angry. She used her own brand of magic to bind me to her. She pulled me from the tent, pulled me into the forest, away from the Death Eaters. I tried to hold her back. I wanted to return to the campsite. I wanted to show those Death Eaters what loyalty to the Dark Lord meant, and to punish them for their lack of it. I used the stolen wand to cast the Dark Mark into the sky.

“Ministry wizards arrived. They shot Stunning Spells everywhere. One of the spells came through the trees where Winky and I stood. The bond connecting us was broken. We were both Stunned. When Winky was discovered, my father knew I must be nearby. He searched the bushes where she had been found and felt me lying there. He waited until the other Ministry members had left the forest. He put me back under the Imperius Curse and took me home. He dismissed Winky. She had failed him. She had let me acquire a wand. She had almost let me escape.”

Winky let out a wail of despair as he continued. “Now it was just Father and I, alone in the house. And then... and then...” Crouch’s head rolled on his neck, and an insane grin spread across his face. “My master came for me.

“He arrived at our house late one night in the arms of his servant Wormtail. My master had found out that I was still alive. He had captured Bertha Jorkins in Albania. He had tortured her. She told him a great deal. She told him about the Triwizard Tournament. She told him the old Auror, Moody, was going to teach at Hogwarts. He tortured her until he broke through the Memory Charm my father had placed upon her. She told him I had escaped from Azkaban. She told him my father kept me imprisoned to prevent me from seeking my master. And so my master knew that I was still his faithful servant— perhaps the most faithful of all. My master conceived a plan, based upon the information Bertha had given him. He needed me. He arrived at our house near midnight. My father answered the door.”

The smile spread wider over Crouch’s face, as though recalling the sweetest memory of his life. “It was very quick. My father was placed under the Imperius Curse by my master. Now my father was the one imprisoned, controlled. My master called Kenneth Thompson. That miserable man was still treated with respect by my master…. My master had him take over the Imperius Curse on my father, forced him to go about his business as usual, to act as though nothing was wrong. He would monitor him when he worked at the Ministry. And I was released. I awoke. I was myself again, alive as I hadn’t been in years. I was going to prove myself to my master, to become the most faithful Death Eater, more faithful than the fool, Kenneth.

“And what did Lord Voldemort ask you to do?” said Dumbledore, eyeing Kit briefly.

“He asked me whether I was ready to risk everything for him. I was ready. It was my dream, my greatest ambition, to serve him.He told me he needed to place a faithful servant at Hogwarts. A servant who would guide Harry Potter through the Triwizard Tournament without appearing to do so. A servant who would watch over Harry Potter. Ensure he reached the Triwizard Cup. Turn the cup into a Portkey, which would take the first person to touch it to my master. But first—” 

“You needed Alastor Moody,” said Dumbledore. His blue eyes were blazing, though his voice remained calm.

“Wormtail and I did it. We had prepared the Polyjuice Potion beforehand. We journeyed to his house. Moody put up a struggle. There was a commotion. We managed to subdue him just in time. Forced him into a compartment of his own magical trunk. Took some of his hair and added it to the potion. I drank it; I became Moody’s double. I took his leg and his eye. I was ready to face Arthur Weasley when he arrived to sort out the Muggles who had heard a disturbance. I made the dustbins move around the yard. I told Arthur Weasley I had heard intruders in my yard, who had set off the dustbins. Then I packed up Moody’s clothes and Dark detectors, put them in the trunk with Moody, and set off for Hogwarts. I kept him alive, under the Imperius Curse. I wanted to be able to question him. To find out about his past, learn his habits, so that I could fool even Dumbledore. I also needed his hair to make the Polyjuice Potion. The other ingredients were easy. I stole boom-slang skin from the dungeons. When the Potions master found me in his office, I said I was under orders to search it.”

“And what became of Wormtail after you attacked Moody?” said Dumbledore.

“Wormtail returned to care for my master, in my father’s house, and to keep watch over my father.”

“But your father escaped,” said Dumbledore.

“Yes. After a while he began to fight the Imperius Curse just as I had done. There were periods when he knew what was happening. My master spoke with Kenneth, and they decided it was no longer safe for my father to leave the house. Kenneth forced him to send letters to the Ministry instead, and took over speaking often with my father’s assistant. He made him write and say he was ill. But Wormtail neglected his duty. He was not watchful enough. Kenneth let his guard down rather than intensifying the curse— he failed my master once more. My father escaped. My master guessed that he was heading for Hogwarts. My father was going to tell Dumbledore everything, to confess. He was going to admit that he had smuggled me from Azkaban.

“My master sent me word of my father’s escape. He told me to stop him at all costs. So I waited and watched. I used the map I had taken from Harry Potter. The map that had almost ruined everything.”

“Map?” said Dumbledore quickly. “What map is this?”

“Potter’s map of Hogwarts. Potter saw me on it. Potter and Thompson saw me stealing more ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion from Snape’s office one night. They thought I was my father. We have the same first name. I took the map from Potter that night. I told him my father hated Dark wizards. Potter believed my father was after Snape.

“I questioned Thompson. I knew she had seen me in the woods, I knew she had told her parents. I pretended to be angry… to scare her. I threatened her. I knew she might recognize me if she thought about it. I kept her scared enough that she didn’t have the time or stability to figure it out, and she would never be able to tell anyone that something was off about the man everyone called Alastor Moody….” 

Dumbledore looked back at the teary eyed Kit. She felt terrible. This was her fault— if she had spoken up, gathered her wits, none of this would have happened. Was it true, then? Was it really true that Cedric was dead?

“For a week I waited for my father to arrive at Hogwarts. At last, one evening, the map showed my father entering the grounds. I pulled on my Invisibility Cloak and went down to meet him. He was walking around the edge of the forest. Then Potter came, and Krum. I waited. I could not hurt Potter; my master needed him. Potter ran to get Dumbledore. I Stunned Krum. I killed my father.”

“Noooo!” wailed Winky. “Master Barty, Master Barty, what is you saying?”

“You killed your father,” Dumbledore said, in the same soft voice. “What did you do with the body?”

“Carried it into the forest. Covered it with the Invisibility Cloak. I had the map with me. I watched Potter run into the castle. He met Snape. Dumbledore joined them. I watched Potter bringing Dumbledore out of the castle. I walked back out of the forest, doubled around behind them, went to meet them. I told Dumbledore Snape had told me where to come.

“Dumbledore told me to go and look for my father. I went back to my father’s body. Watched the map. When everyone was gone, I Transfigured my father’s body. He became a bone... I buried it, while wearing the Invisibility Cloak, in the freshly dug earth in front of Hagrid’s cabin.”

There was complete silence now, except for Winky’s continued sobs. Then Dumbledore said, “And tonight...”

“I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner,” whispered Barty Crouch. “Turned it into a Portkey. My master’s plan worked. He is returned to power and I will be honored by him beyond the dreams of wizards. I will be honored more than those foolish Thompsons ever were.”

He turned straight to Kit, his eyes wild. “You think you know your parents, and you don’t. They are useless servants who can no longer use the gifts they were granted. It is their fault that my master was unable to return for so long. Had they not been so focused on giving Alana to another man over me… had they not betrayed me for the sake of protecting their daughter… we could have worked together and the Dark Lord would have been here, in flesh, ages ago.”

The insane smile lit his features once more, and his head drooped onto his shoulder as Winky wailed and sobbed at his side.

Kit stared at the scene before her, her breathing ragged as Snape hoisted her up. 

What had she yet to discover about her family?


	30. Chapter 30

**As it turned out, what Kit did not know about her family was not about to come to light in the moments following her trip to the Hospital Wing.**

In fact, it didn’t seem like the truth would come out anytime soon. She had spent four days curled up in the Hospital Wing, unwilling to speak to anyone. She could vaguely hear the Weasleys accompanying Harry, as well as Sirius. He and Mrs. Weasley had come over to coax Kit into taking her dreamless sleep potions, as her own parents had been apparently too busy to visit. She vaguely recalled hearing Draco and Blaise’s voices. Once, Su had come in to see if Kit would open her eyes. The girl refused, and remained curled up, taking a sip from her potion only when she actually wanted to drift off into sleep. She had heard Su continuously trying to whisper Quidditch facts to get her to react in some way. She heard Ron adding into the conversation to get Kit to engage. It didn’t work.

It was clear her friends were worried. Kit would have to be blind and deaf to not know that. She knew that she was only worrying them more by keeping silent. Only Harry understood so far the truth behind Barty Crouch Jr. It hadn’t helped that the idiotic Cornelius Fudge had brought a dementor with him to meet the man, which had resulted in a kiss being administered that rendered the lunatic useless for any testimony. Kit had cried silently when she found out. Fudge now didn’t believe the Dark Lord had returned, and now Kit felt that things would not be brought to justice. She wanted to speak out, but what use would it be? She hated how idiotic the Ministry could be. She hated that she was too afraid to even move. She wished she could crawl out of the bed and be productive again, but it felt so wrong. She felt out of place, empty, hurt. Completely violated and ashamed. Part of her wished Harry would just explain everything to the others. The other part was extremely thankful that he hadn’t said anything. She was not ready to relive it yet. 

Those four days of forcefully induced sleep and little food had been what it took for her to process the fact that Cedric was indeed dead. That would be left unresolved. Barty Crouch Jr.’s testimony might have even granted Sirius a chance to be free. Hell, she even wished for his testimony to have thrown her parents in Azkaban, which was what they deserved for all they did. It had been exceedingly difficult to wrap her mind around it all. Cedric, who just months ago she had been very close to, was now in a coffin. 

On the morning of the fifth day, Harry had requested being alone, which had left them undisturbed in the room with the quiet sounds of the breeze and the still chirping birds outside. Harry hadn’t tried to speak to her, which she was thankful for. She knew he was also trying to process everything. She wanted to have complete peace for the day.

But apparently, this had been a signal for her parents to at last come and visit, and she found herself growing distraught all over again. 

Kit hadn’t responded initially when Madam Pomfrey had announced that they were there. She didn’t want to see them— she didn’t care. She didn’t want to stare at the faces that were directly responsible for Cedric’s death. For her and Harry’s confusion and pain. For the suffering of countless others whose families had been torn apart by Death Eaters and Voldemort. No, Kit refused to acknowledge them even when she knew for certain that they were there.

But, of course, her parents weren’t about to tolerate her ignoring them. Kenneth Thompson had swept forward and hoisted Kit up the instant Madam Pomfrey was gone, leaving her to snap her eyes open involuntarily and glare at her parents.

“Katherine,” her mother said sternly, sitting at the foot of her bed. “It’s time to talk. No more being silent and feeling sorry for yourself.”

Kit scowled dejectedly and shuffled into a more comfortable position as her father took a slight step back. “What, you’re here to hear the story and then leave?” She didn’t care that she was sassing them. They couldn’t really hurt her there. And even then, she was used to it. She could still feel the sting of the Cruciatus Curse on her skin. She could still feel the stiffness in her limbs that came after every one of her father’s beatings. She could still feel the ache in her chest and cheeks and the burning in her eyes that came from her mother’s hateful words and slaps. Things could hardly get worse. In fact, she hoped they were here to disown her completely. 

“Don’t take that tone with us,” hissed Kenneth in annoyance, not about to be sympathetic to his daughter’s condition. “We want to know what happened.”

Kit squirmed uncomfortably and leaned back. Why did they care now? What would be the benefit for them? As far as she knew, any knowledge of someone harming her was only fueling their sadistic nature. Her parents were masochists themselves— she had never seen them express pain when they hurt themselves, even accidentally. She could hardly consider them human. Her story wouldn’t grant her any sort of caring gesture. Either way, she would never know what to make of it if it did happen. They had never hugged or kissed her. 

When she finally managed to decide on where to start and how to word it, she found herself growing overwhelmed again. Her entire explanation was filled with details that she wished she could forget. For most of the time, her parents remained emotionless, but once she finished, their faces became pale. They looked agitated, which was not at all how she had expected them to react. Something was clearly triggering a memory. They seemed afraid.

“You’re sure that’s all there is to it?” asked Kenneth in a rushed manner. He was gripping his wand tightly, and he seemed to have tensed more than usual. There was a strange glimmer in Alison’s eyes, like this was stirring a memory that she couldn’t completely piece together. For a moment, Kit’s mother looked years older. She had a crazed look, and her hands began to shake. “Kenneth—” 

“Not now, Alison,” he snarled suddenly. Kit flinched. She had never heard her father raise his voice at her mother. Kit looked between her parents, thoroughly confused, but didn’t get a chance to dwell on it, because her father abruptly snapped his fingers in her face. 

“You’re certain he mentioned only that?” said Kenneth urgently. “He didn’t go into details about the magic?”

Kit shook her head. She wanted to know what darker magic her parents knew— what they were hiding from her. Judging from her mother’s panicked reaction, it was something very bad. “No, he didn’t. But father—”

“Don’t ‘but’ me, Katherine!” he sneered harshly. “Now isn’t the time to get talking. If you had said something earlier, this wouldn’t be happening! That Diggory boy would be alive!”

Kit felt her chest tighten so much that she had to let out a gasp to try and bring air into her lungs. Guilt. Pain. Paranoia. Fear. Fear and paranoia that her cowardice would come back to bite her. Pain because the words stung. Guilt because she felt they were true. She had screwed up. Cedric’s death was her fault. If she had spoken up, he wouldn’t be in a coffin. His parents wouldn’t be suffering so much. 

She dared to look at her mother, who was still dazed. It even seemed as though she _disagreed_ with what Kit’s father had said. It was odd, and foreign to Kit. What was wrong with the woman? “Kenneth,” said Alison shakily. “It wasn’t her fault—”

What happened next was incredibly strange. Kenneth raised his wand about a centimeter into the air and growled something that sounded foreign. A purple light emitted from the tip of his wand as he wove it into a small incomplete triangle. The light did not travel anywhere, but a sudden gasp from Alison made Kit snap her head toward her. Before she could even process it, her mother had suddenly glared at her and hissed, “Your father is right, Katherine. Your silence left the boy to die.”

“What?” breathed Kit. Why the sudden change? What had her father just done? “But mother—”

“Silence!” Alison Thompson rose, her hand coming forward to smack Kit across the cheek. “Don’t deny it. If you hadn’t been such a stupid coward, you would have—”

A scream then tore out of Alison’s mouth as a massive black dog knocked her onto the floor. Sirius, still as an animagus, snarled and moved as if threatening to bite Kenneth’s ankles. The man raised his wand, but seemed to recognize the animal before him. His nostrils flared, and he yanked his wife up before pulling her toward the door. “Make your way home from King’s Cross alone,” he sneered at his daughter before disappearing.

Sirius transformed the instant the door closed. “Kit!” he grasped her face, turning it so he could see the red handprint her mother had left behind. “What happened?”

Kit struggled to form words, too shocked to think straight. “They— they—” She shook her head and leaned back, pressing her own hand on her forehead. Sirius sat beside her, taking her free hand as she tried to steady her breathing. She could hear Harry stirring nearby— had he heard everything?

The wand. The purple light. Her mother’s behavior. Her father’s agitation. The slap. What did this mean? What the hell were they really hiding?

**_**

A month later, both Kit and Harry seemed to have taken on the habit of ignoring the majority of the Hogwarts population.

Kit had cried immensely the entire month, having taken her parents’ words to heart. She felt it was her fault. When she had felt ready, Kit had gathered her friends separately in smaller groups and admitted what’d been happening in the previous months. Hermione, Su, and Mimi had begun to cry. Ron, Terry, Anthony, and Blaise had been stunned, and had not even known what to tell her. She had reassured them she was fine, and said that she simply wanted them to know. They had all tried to insist that none of this was her fault. They had profusely mentioned their support of her and that they were there for whatever she needed. But no amount of words could stop Kit from feeling immense guilt.

She had spoken separately to Draco the night before the Leaving Feast, not having been able to face him until the very end to tell him what’d been going on. 

“So, everyone knows the truth except me?” he asked a bit gruffly once she let him know what she wanted to speak to him about.

“It took me time to work up to telling you,” she murmured. They were seated in the empty corridor near the Slytherin Common Room. Kit leaned back against the wall. “You need to hear it most carefully, Draco. Promise me you’ll pay close attention.”

He gave her a saddened look and nodded, carefully reaching over to take her hand as she tapped her fingers nervously on her leg. “Okay. I’ll listen carefully.”

And so, Kit began the story for what felt like the millionth time. She felt a greater calm now that she was telling Draco. She felt safer now that the man was gone. The real Alastor Moody was still at Hogwarts, but she had avoided any interaction at all costs. It helped keep her relatively calm. Now, the words rolled off her tongue as a delicate warning to Draco that there were deeper secrets embedded into the Thompson name.

“That bastard,” breathed Draco, squeezing her hand a little too hard for her comfort. “He… and he just…” he looked down at her. “I should have kept you safe. If I— If I had just—” 

“I purposely didn’t tell you about the last incident, so don’t blame yourself,” said Kit sternly. “That’s besides the point. Things are more dangerous around our families than we know of, Draco. You need to be really careful. As your friend, as someone who cares about you, I want to gently remind you that I thoroughly believe that what they taught us is completely wrong. Your mother is the least evil of the four, I think we can agree on that. You don’t know your father, and I don’t know mine. Not well enough. Please, don’t forget everything we talked about this year. I know that it’s been really hard to get used to the way I am—”

“It’s more complicated than that, Kit Kat,” he huffed. “I’m fine with the way you are. Just… my father doesn’t want that from me.” He withdrew his hand, and Kit furrowed her eyebrows. “Draco, did he say something?”

He swallowed hard. “After Dumbledore told your parents what’d happened, they told mine. I was there. When they left, my father was acting really strange. My mother was crying, though. I… I don’t know what came over me. I pieced things together. I figured out your parents and my father had been present when Diggory was killed. I got angry, I snapped at my father that this was his fault.”

Kit gasped, covering her mouth immediately. “Draco! Did he—?”

“Yes. Backhand, across both sides of my face.”

Her chest tightened all over again. She knew that the only time Lucius had ever hit Draco before was when he’d almost hurt Narcissa flying around on a broom when he was little. She knew Lucius and Narcissa had a very different parenting style to her parents. What had caused the tension to rise so much in Lucius that he lashed out on his son? It was completely out of character. Draco had surely snapped at his father before. Why then had Lucius retaliated in that matter?

But in reality, Kit knew the answer to that. The Dark Lord was back. Her parents had slipped away from a trial, just as the Malfoys had. Everyone knew who Lucius truly was, as they did with Kenneth and Alison. But now that things were changing, the pressure was on Lucius. Continue his facade or become loyal to the Dark Lord once more. Kit knew her own parents wouldn’t try to be covert about the situation. Lucius had been the one to most profusely deny his involvement in the past. In the Dark Lord’s eyes, he would likely need to redeem himself. It pained Kit to think that the new high expectations for Lucius were turning into violence bestowed upon Draco. She shuddered to think of what Lucius might do if Draco showed his good side again. It scared her even more to consider what Lucius would tell Draco this summer…

“Kit?”

She turned back to Draco, who had a saddened look in his eyes. “Draco, I’m so sorry,” she breathed. “I’m sorry he hit you.”

“I suppose I deserve it,” murmured Draco. “I talked back.”

“That doesn’t give him a reason to hit you. Just how it isn’t right for my parents to hurt me, either. I truly am sorry.”

Draco forced himself to shrug. The last thing he wanted to do was make Kit pity him. He didn’t want to feel more embarrassed than he already was. Besides, Kit had it much worse. He could do with pushing aside his emotions if it meant she would be okay. He cared too much about her to watch her be hurt.

He put his hand over hers once more. “I will try to visit as much as I can this summer, alright?” He wished he could blurt out many things in that moment. One of them being that he fancied her. He was worried of what might happen to the both of them when they weren’t together. He wasn’t sure why he had such a bad feeling about it all, but if something happened, he wanted her to at least know how he felt about her.

But the words simply wouldn’t form. Even when she nodded and rested her head on his lap, and even when he began to run his hand through her hair, he couldn’t form words. He hated that now, no sound was coming out, especially when he had so much to say.

He felt so different, sitting here with her, caressing her, feeling emotions he had never felt for anyone else. Just last year, he was on a three year streak of not speaking a single word to Kit. This year, however, he had truly changed. A small smile almost came onto his lips. This different… felt better. Felt right. Even thought it went against everything he had been taught, even when it resulted in a slap, he felt in place. Although he knew he wasn’t ready to be exactly like Kit and speak to all the Muggleborns and others in the school… he felt comfortable with where he was. He was better friends with Blaise now. He was nicer to Theo, who as it turned out, was really interesting when he wasn’t suppressing himself to not piss Draco off. Even with the limited conversations he had had with Hermione Granger, he felt that he appreciated how intelligent she was. He wanted to get to know her better, now that he saw how she and Blaise looked at each other. Hell, even Ronald Weasley seemed intriguing, especially since Kit had mentioned he would be a worthy chess opponent. He felt proud of himself for having really improved when it came to respecting his Professors and his fellow students. This was where he belonged. Although he knew he would probably never let go of his temper, he felt that this was a good start. This different was good. He, Draco Malfoy, could be good. He could turn into the type of man that Kit would like to be with.

He coiled a single strand of her long brown hair in his fingers, listening to her steady breathing. How he wanted to lean down and just kiss her. To hold her face and feel her lips against his, feel her breathing and let her know how he felt. 

Instead, he remained silent. It was not the time for that. But one day…

Later that day when the Leaving Feast finally came around, Kit found herself seated comfortably between Su and Mimi, who had put their arms around her. She looked across the hall, scanning the grim faces of her peers. She could see Hannah Abbott looked miserable. Blaise and Draco were looking quite serious— even sad. As she turned back, she saw Hermione, Ron, and Harry were nearly expressionless.

“The end,” said Dumbledore at the conclusion of the feast, “of another year.”

He paused, and his eyes fell upon the Hufflepuff table. Theirs had been the most subdued table before he had gotten to his feet, and theirs were still the saddest and palest faces in the Hall.

“There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight,” said Dumbledore, “but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here,” he gestured toward the Hufflepuffs, “enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory.”

The benches scraped as they all stood. Kit felt her eyes well up with tears, her hand shaking as she took her goblet and raised it. As one, in a union that Kit had never truly experienced before between herself and her fellow students, they echoed in one voice: “Cedric Diggory.”

When Kit sat down, she noticed that a few seats down, Cho had tears pouring silently down her face. She wanted to speak to her, but she couldn’t find the courage to. She felt too guilty, even now. 

“Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house,” Dumbledore continued. “He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about.”

Dumbledore’s next sentence shocked Kit. “Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort.”

A panicked whisper swept the Great Hall. People were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror. He looked perfectly calm as he watched them mutter themselves into silence. 

“The Ministry of Magic,” Dumbledore continued, “does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so— either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory.”

Stunned and frightened, every face in the Hall was turned toward Dumbledore now. Kit noticed that even Draco had looked up, though he had a faraway look in his eyes.

“There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death,” Dumbledore went on. “I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter.”

A kind of ripple crossed the Great Hall as a few heads turned in Harry’s direction before flicking back to face Dumbledore. Kit was unsure if putting Harry on the spot was a wise idea. She knew how overwhelmed Harry was. And she knew that at the moment, many students held resentment toward Harry for what had occurred, even though none of it was his fault. 

“Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort,” said Dumbledore. “He risked his own life to return Cedric’s body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him.”

Dumbledore turned gravely to Harry and raised his goblet once more. Nearly everyone in the Great Hall followed suit. They murmured his name, as they had murmured Cedric’s, and drank to him. Some students had not joined in— mostly older Slytherins who perhaps were more aware of what their parents involvement in this all was. 

When everyone had once again resumed their seats, Dumbledore continued, “The Triwizard Tournament’s aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened— of Lord Voldemort's return— such ties are more important than ever before.”

Dumbledore looked from Madame Maxime and Hagrid, to Fleur Delacour and her fellow Beauxbatons students, to Viktor Krum and the Durmstrangs at the Slytherin table. 

“Every guest in this Hall,” said Dumbledore, and his eyes lingered upon the Durmstrang students, “will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again— in the light of Lord Voldemort’s return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.

“It is my belief— and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken— that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst.

“Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.”

When the feast came to an end, Kit found herself numbly being led away by Su and Mimi. Pain still radiated down her body, even after they led her to where Blaise and Draco awaited her to sit with her on the train ride back to King’s Cross Station. She vaguely remembered that the boys had offered to go home with her, as her parents weren’t going to pick her up.

However, only one thing resonated in Kit’s mind, leaving her unable to register the words Draco spoke to her. Unable to register the conversation that carried out on the train. Unable to register the note that Hermione had slipped to her, explaining how she apparently found out that Rita Skeeter was an unregistered animagus. One thing occupied her mind. A singular phrase that Kit knew would torment her to no avail. 

_This is all my fault._


	31. Chapter 31

_August 31st, 1995_

**On the morning of her 15th birthday, Kit found herself looking quite different than she had just a year ago.**

Her entire summer had gone to shit since the first day she got home, and while vulgar, the word ‘shit’ hardly accounted for how terrible it had been.

For one, the meetings began. Kenneth and Alison had confined Kit in her room and placed heavy silencing charms around the dining room. People began to come around— men and women that Kit had never met before. The only ones she truly recognized were the Malfoys as well as the fathers of several of the Slytherin boys and girls. They would remain in that room for hours at a time, having conversations and making plans. A few times, Kit saw them leaving in a rush. More often, they stayed for a calm dinner and then left with grins on their faces. Her parents did not speak about it to her— not that they would have even if they didn’t despise her. 

Secondly, her grief. Her time alone, locked in her room, had let her mind take her places that she didn’t need to go. As if it wasn’t bad enough that she could still feel Barty Crouch Jr’s hands on her body, now she was having nightmares every time she closed her eyes. What was worse was that she couldn’t help but feel unbelievably angry and annoyed that the man had been administered the Dementor’s Kiss before he could confess. It had left Sirius without being cleared. It left Cornelius Fudge vehemently arguing that Voldemort was not back. It had left Cedric’s parents without resolution. 

_Cedric_. She couldn’t stop dreaming about Cedric, either. She kept seeing his eyes staring at her whenever she fixated on any dark corner of her room. She heard him begging her to help him when she had visions of Crouch forcing her to hurt her friends. She hated how real it was— to see herself at wandpoint, being made to stab someone. Every time she heard his voice, her chest ached, her lungs struggling to draw in air for her to breathe. Sometimes, she let it happen, feeling that she didn’t deserve to breathe. After all, it was her fault Cedric was dead. She’d neglected him even when they had just been friends, and because of her cowardice, he was currently in a coffin six feet underneath the ground. Other times, she would gasp for air and start crying, blurting out apologies to the air in front of her, hoping maybe that wherever Cedric was, he’d hear her.

It consumed her. Like a fire raging from her aching heart to the tips of her fingers, she felt depleted, defeated, overwhelmed with guilt that she couldn’t brush away. Had she been able to talk to someone— anyone— she might not have struggled to complete the daily functions of her life. But no, she had no owl, she had no parchment or quills, she didn’t have her wand. Her parents had taken all her utensils away, leaving her with only her books. They had forbidden any of her friends from visiting— even Draco, despite how often his parents came by. She hadn’t heard anything from Hermione, or Su, or anyone else that she’d have liked to hear from. Her isolation was punishment for simply being born. 

One day, however, she’d paused in front of her mirror. She gazed over her pale skin, lacking sunlight. Her gaunt figure from the starvation she’d partially inflicted on herself. Her hair and even her fingers looked damaged from how often she lay in a bathtub filled with water, considering giving up and just letting her head submerge. Her eyes were red from a lack of sleep, her lips chapped from dehydration. Her breathing was even slightly raspy from how often she flew into states of panic and hoarsely tried to recover from it. She hadn’t spoken a single word all summer, not even to herself. 

As she looked over her figure, she felt another wave of anger wash over her— but this time it wasn’t debilitating. It was empowering, driving, and suddenly, a switch seemed to go off in her head.

Katherine Thompson started changing. Instead of allowing herself to wallow any longer, she began planning, and working. She rearranged her room. She managed to crack open her windows and move her mirrors to make herself a tanning spot on the floor, which she hoped would work. She used her eyeliner to scribble down a diet and exercise plan. She moved her books into piles that she would read daily, organized for research purposes now that she suspected her mother was being controlled by her father, and tossed out all the clothes that she no longer found suitable, creating a new wardrobe for herself. She set up a spot for the makeup she still had, and made a list for what to teach herself to do.

By the end of August, Kit had used her sadness and her fury to transform herself into the person she wanted to be. On her fifthteenth birthday, she took notice of what she had accomplished.

Tan skin. Tanner that it had ever been, and even for once, which she liked. She had managed to teach herself how to fix her face to a point that she liked. Her dieting and exercising had left her with a body she appreciated for once— though not curvy, it was fitting, and she felt beautiful. She even came to love the stomach chub that remained behind. She had cut her hair to rest at her shoulders, and nourished it so that it looked as healthy as her. She felt wiser after her extensive reading into spells, and she figured out that her mother was indeed under her father’s influence via a spell likely fabricated by her ancestors— a variation of the Imperious Curse. Aside from research into her mother’s condition, she had pushed ahead when her textbooks arrived (along with parchment for her to finally use), and had completed all the assignments required in a timely fashion that she was quite proud of. 

“Good,” she said softly to herself, once she had put on a sundress that she’d sewn together, made of the curtains she discarded when she made her tanning spot. Surprisingly, it looked good. The material was delicate, and though it was plain burgundy, she enjoyed it. She found herself smiling. 

A knock on her door turned her attention to the fact that her parents were finally letting her see her friends. Blaise and Draco had been invited, as usual, for her birthday. She opened the door to see her mother. Kit found herself feeling more inclined to speak to her mother than usual. Knowing that she was being controlled had her beginning to forgive the woman for all the times she hurt her. Just as she had learned to forgive herself for what happened to Cedric (although, sometimes she still found herself spiraling down into the depths of her mind with guilt).

“Mother,” said Kit, still smiling. Alison offered her a tight lipped smile in return. “The Malfoys and the Zabini boy are here. I trust you’ll behave.”

“I will, mother,” answered Kit as Alison moved to let her exit the room. Kit’s steps were nearly bouncy as she trailed down the stairs.

Draco and Blaise had been seated below in the parlor near the staircase, waiting awkwardly for Kit while Kenneth led Lucius and Narcissa to the dining room. Both boys were unsure what to expect, since they hadn’t known anything about Kit’s condition all summer.

As she came around the corner and into their line of sight, both of their mouths promptly dropped open.

 _Gorgeous_. Draco found his heart nearly stopping within his chest. The creature in front of him couldn’t possibly be the same Kit Thompson he’d dropped off at home at the beginning of the summer. She had been cute before, but now, Draco was practically seeing her glowing. 

For the past months, all he had thought about was seeing Kit again. He hated how his parents kept leaving him behind, he hated that he couldn’t owl her, he hated that she couldn’t visit. And what with his father becoming more intolerable to his existence…

The summer had been terrible for him, too. Between not getting to see his best friends and his father’s worsening temper, he had been miserable. It had started with his arrival home. Lucius had heavily lectured him about how unacceptable Draco’s behavior had been when he blamed Lucius for Cedric’s death. To prove his point, he’d smacked Draco another two times. It hadn’t ended there. Now, everything Draco did appeared to be wrong. He’d inquired further when his father mentioned that Harry Potter had been attacked by dementors. Lucius had snarled that Draco shouldn’t care, and he’d hit him across the face with his walking stick. Although Narcissa had cautiously advised Draco not to talk back to his father, Draco had sworn and sneered that he could care about whatever he pleased. That resulted in a beating that left him sore for a week. 

He had never thought he’d experience that type of pain. He had watched it happen to Kit, he had wished with all his might that he could stop it, but a part of him had always been inherently thankful that that sort of thing would never happen to him. But apparently now, Lucius was convinced that Draco was going soft. He lectured Draco often about what he valued— status, supremacy, all the things that Draco had since learned were ridiculous. He had gotten to know Blaise better, he had conversed with Hermione Granger— he knew his father was wrong. Blood didn’t matter. Sure, Draco was not completely inclined to have his best friend be a Muggle-born or anything, but he knew better now to be accepting. Kit and Blaise had made sure of that. He was proud to be like them, proud to believe that they weren’t all that different to begin with. Proud to think that he, as a Malfoy, wasn’t superior to a Granger, or a Weasley, or a Potter. They were different, but that needn’t matter.

Of course, Lucius had determined this almost instantaneously. He knew that Draco had been corrupted (as he put it), and he sought to change that. Thus, whenever Lucius was home, he would force Draco to read books that outlined why Purebloods were better. He drilled into Draco’s head the ideals that the boy had once accepted. Draco refused to believe it, but with every moment of defiance, came a hit, then another, and after awhile, he stopped talking back, and simply nodded to everything his father said. He hated that Lucius had so much power over him. But truth be told, Draco was now afraid of his father. 

As Kit came closer, a sigh of relief blew out of Draco’s mouth. Even before Blaise could react, he leapt up, strode over to her, and threw his arms around her, catching her by surprise. Kit let out a small squeak, because he’d hugged her tighter than what she’d been expecting. Blaise fought back a smirk as he stood and joined in on the hug, both boys engulfing Kit to the point where she couldn’t breathe too well (not that she minded, if it meant her best friends were being affectionate). 

“I missed you guys,” said Kit once they released her. Her eyes threatened to well up with tears, but she forced it down. No need for them to see her cry.

“We missed you too,” replied Blaise. “You got shorter.”

“I did not! You both just got taller. I expect you’ll hit one last growth spurt next summer. Both of you are going to be over six feet tall.”

“Meaning you’ll be even shorter than you are now,” said Blaise with a playful gasp, making Kit smack him in the chest. She then turned to Draco, who was still staring at her in awe.

Kit felt a blush rise into her cheeks. Draco had gotten even more attractive, if that was possible. “Hey, Smok,” she said gently. 

“Hey, Kit Kat,” he replied as smoothly as he could, though his voice wavered ever so slightly.

There was a brief pause when all they did was stare at each other. Blaise watched, intrigued, as Kit cleared her throat and stepped back. “Shall we go out to the pond? The breeze is nice today.”

“Let’s catch some tadpoles and put them in Draco’s hair,” suggested Blaise as the boys followed Kit out the door. Draco let out a grunt of disapproval. “I will not have my hair messed up by tadpoles. We can put them in a jar and pour them on Kit Kat’s head later.”

“How is it any better that they’ll end up in my hair instead?” asked Kit, her short brown locks fluttering around her face and making it a little hard for her to see the path ahead of her. 

“Right, perhaps we should have done it before you cut your hair,” said Draco, catching one of the strands between his fingertips and observing it. Of course, there wasn’t much for him to notice, other than the fact that it was shorter. “If you curl your hair, it’ll poof up like Andrea’s did that one Christmas, remember, Blaise?”

Blaise snorted. “My sister has terrible hair days too often during the holidays. Speaking of Andrea— she’s getting married, Kit. Found a nice American bloke. Mum was pleased— offhandedly suggested a double wedding.”

Kit and Draco winced. “Did that go well?” Kit asked with a bit of a pained look. She knew Andrea Zabini resented her mother’s constant need for companionship through repeated marriage. It was the reason she left the country in the first place.

Blaise shrugged. “It could have been worse. Andrea just said no, outright, and said that the wedding wouldn’t be for awhile. She and the man— his name’s Nehemiah or something like that— they agreed to stay engaged for a year before they start planning a wedding. Though, I know both Mum and Andrea will be secretly making plans in their heads.”

“Of course,” noted Draco. “Remember when Kit Kat used to sneak into her room to try on her dresses? Your sister has a very good sense of fashion. I’m sure she’ll be designing the best possible dress already.”

“She offhandedly said she might make it herself, by hand,” said Blaise, kicking a rock ahead of them. “I guess for some people, weddings are a big deal. Her and my mum were always really into those Muggle wedding magazines. When I get married, I’m not even going to tell anyone.”

“Hermione will want a wedding,” said Kit. Blaise’s cheeks immediately turned pink. Draco found himself wanting to smile, but the thought of Hermione abruptly reminded him of his father’s walking stick hitting him across the face. He wasn’t supposed to want to be her friend, even though he was curious about it.

Kit and Blaise thankfully didn’t notice his expression. Kit was giggling, and nudging Blaise as they finally made it to the pond. The brunette kicked off her sandals immediately, bunching up her dress before wading into the water.

“Pity that the pond didn’t grow like we did,” mused Draco as he and Blaise sat on the rocks while Kit splashed water up into the air. “Would have made a nice swimming hole.”

“It’s a pond, not a lake, I don’t think those things grow at all,” said Blaise. The boys watched as Kit kept splashing water. Both immediately assumed that she hadn’t been able to step foot in the pond since an entire year ago. 

“The water does feel heavenly,” noted Kit. “It would have been nice to swim in.”

“Kit, you hate swimming,” scoffed Draco, making her splash him. He rolled his eyes and brushed the droplets of water off his shirt. “You always say it’s lame.”

Kit scrunched her face up and stuck her tongue out. “Maybe because the only times I went swimming, those awful Macnair boys tried to drown me.”

“They always like ruining your day, huh?” said Blaise, taking off his shoes. “They’ve pushed you into cake, thrown you headfirst into a pile of mud, attempted to murder you in a river, and probably caused half your injuries when we all first learned to play Quidditch.”

“Thank fuck I’m not betrothed to either of them,” said Kit, using a hairpin to keep her dress bunched up. “I’d probably die for real.”

At this, Draco offered a tight lipped smile. Kit happened to look up, and the two locked eyes. It seemed that this past summer, both had forgotten the fact that they were meant to marry each other. It was a silly thing to remember in the midst of everything that had happened. Months ago, Kit’s biggest concern was having to marry Draco, who at the time was still too cruel to her. Now, she knew there were worse things. Besides, Draco was a much better person now.

Neither of them said anything. Blaise assumed that both were probably thinking something along the lines of: _‘Oh, that’s right, we’re supposed to get married when we graduate Hogwarts! It’s no biggie now, we’re friends.’_ He resisted the urge to grin. He wished they knew they fancied each other. He wished that things were simpler, so they could be happy. But he also knew that Kit was not ready for a relationship— especially not with Draco, who’d been the source of a lot of her discomfort in past years. Additionally, Blaise didn’t think Draco was entirely ready to deal with all the friends that came with Kit, as he’d have to interact with them more if they were together. He almost laughed out loud thinking of Draco introducing himself to Ron as Kit’s boyfriend. 

“Say, Draco,” murmured Kit after their moment of silence. “Do you, er— by any chance remember that handshake we used to have? I was thinking about it the other day.”

Draco furrowed his eyebrows. “Yes, I think so.” Kit moved closer to him, and Draco slid a bit off the rock to stand in front of her. Last time he had seen her, he didn’t have to crane his neck down too much to look at her. Now, he had to force his head to remain up and make his eyes struggle to face downward to save his neck from pain. 

Kit raised her hand, and Draco followed suit. Gently, both pressed their palms together. Draco took lead, hooking his thumb around hers. Kit pulled, and their hands were flipped away from each other. Both of them balled their fists together and brought them back to center.

“That’s a really simple handshake, but it’s cute,” observed Blaise, making Kit blush yet again. She wasn’t sure why she was blushing so damn much, but she didn’t mind it. Her heart felt fluttery seeing Draco again. 

“So,” said Kit, shuffling to sit between the boys. “What’s been happening? I haven’t had a chance to communicate much with the outside world.”

“Erm, Harry got attacked by dementors,” said Blaise, making Kit choke on her own saliva. “He’s okay. Almost got expelled— he used the Patronus Charm to save himself and his cousin.”

“I have to admit, I find it fascinating that Potter can do a Patronus Charm,” said Draco slowly, his cheeks pink. He felt a strange pang in his side, as if this wasn’t what he should be saying. But he still wanted to try and be better in Kit’s eyes.

“It is pretty cool,” agreed Kit, looking happy that he mentioned it. “I would like to have a bowtruckle Patronus. The prospect of them being able to gouge out our eyeballs is fascinating.”

“Knowing you, your patronus would be a centipede,” teased Draco. “Anyway— Potter had to have a trial to get off, you know. My father was there.”

“So was my mum,” added Blaise. “Dumbledore vouched for him to get off. It helped that a lot of the Wizengamot was in his favor. My mum said she didn’t see why Harry was to blame at all.”

“Your mother is a dear,” sighed Kit. “Did you hear what happened afterward? Is Harry safe?”

“As far as I know, yes. Hermione sent me a letter explaining things briefly— she wanted me to tell you because she hadn’t been able to reach you. Apparently all her letters were sent back unopened.”

Kit gritted her teeth. “My parents…” she sighed. “What did Hermione say?”

“She mentioned that the Weasleys and Harry are safe with Snuffles,” he said, looking cautiously at Draco, who didn’t even blink. He didn’t know who Snuffles was (though he did vaguely know that Sirius was a friend, hence Kit’s explanation after he had Brutus help Pigwidgeon take him a ham). “They’ll be joining us on the train.”

“Good,” she breathed. She bit her lip. “Remember how I told you both about that weird thing that happened with my parents? How my mother was sort of out of a trance in the Hospital Wing?”

“Yes,” said Draco immediately, leaning closer to Kit. “Is everything okay? Did you find anything out?”

“I did, sort of. I learned that it’s definitely some sort of mind control. One of the books I had was annotated by Douglas Thompson— my grandfather. It didn’t give away much, but it suggested what Barty Crouch Jr. had been ranting about to me— my family has done some extensive research and work to create more dangerous variations of spells. It has to be some subset of the Imperious Curse— a form only my family can do. My father is in control of it here, and my mother is helpless. I haven’t seen her enough to try and break the trance, though— it’s like my father has kept me away so that I won’t have a chance to do anything. He knows I noticed something was off. I’m hoping I can trigger something in her, to see if the trance breaks. Last time it did, I was explaining to them what happened with Crouch. If I talk to her about it, I might get to wean her off of it.”

“Be careful,” warned Blaise. “Seriously— that can go wrong. Your father just seems to have redone the spell, so it might not be that simple.”

“I have to try,” she insisted. “Maybe over the holidays, once it wears off slightly, I can try it. I hate knowing that my real mother is kinder— she worried about me when she saw me. She was disoriented. The woman I grew to hate is just a facade concealing the caring woman who should have raised me. I want a chance to save her. All summer all I would hear from them when we were together was that Cedric’s death was my fault, that even though he was a blood traitor, he shouldn’t have died because of me protecting other blood traitors and Muggle born friends of mine.”

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?” said Draco immediately, grasping Kit’s hand. “None of it was. You didn’t deserve to suffer. And you are not a coward for choosing to stay quiet to keep the people you care about safe.”

Kit sighed and squeezed his hand. “I know. I was able to resolve that guilt in myself this summer… well, most of it. I feel better now, really I do. I did some work, I’m happy with where I am mentally and physically.”

“You really do look amazing,” blurted Draco, making Kit’s cheeks turn even redder than they were before. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, biting her lip. She quickly chose to change the subject. “So, er, I got prefect for Ravenclaw. Pretty nice, I think. I’ll be kept busy. I think they should have picked someone else, I’m a little reckless. But Flitwick probably thinks it’ll be a good distraction, and it’ll ignite some hidden leadership potential in me or something. And some responsibility… and some anti-procrastination drive.”

Blaise snorted. “You are a natural leader, and you are responsible already. You’re best in your House— almost best in the school. Don’t doubt yourself.” He then grinned. “It looks like you two are going to be spending quality time together in prefect duty, too.”

Kit whirled around to face Draco. “Wait— what?”

Draco felt his heart skip a beat as he fought back a smirk. “Well, I got prefect for Slytherin.”

_A/N: Sorry updates have been slow! College is murderous. For anyone applying to college, I promise Berkeley isn’t that bad, I’m just a procrastinator ;) Go Bears! Ok, enough of my advertising— hope you all are doing well! Comment for more._


	32. Chapter 32

**When she awoke the morning of September 1st, Kit heard voices downstairs.**

She had not expected to hear anyone so early, or really, hear anyone at all. All summer, a charm had been placed that made it very difficult for her to know what went on in the house. Heavy silencing and repelling charms around the dining rooms. A silencing charm around her room to keep her from hearing any of the meetings. She could really only hear voices if they were right outside the door, yet today, she could hear her parents loud as day from the entrance hall.

Kit sat up, and scurried to her door, pressing her ear on it, closing her eyes and concentrating.

“Wonderful day, isn’t it, Lucius?” Kenneth’s voice rang out almost in a joyful manner. He seemed to be excited, as if something had gone well for him. Considering how detached Kit had been from the outside world, she was even more confused as to what it might be about. 

“Certainly. Now, Draco insisted on escorting Katherine to the station— something about prefect duties and arriving together to make a statement.”

Kit furrowed her eyebrows. Draco was _here_? The Malfoys hadn’t accompanied the Thompsons to the train station since she and Draco first went to Hogwarts, back in 1991. Since then, Kit had either been taken by her parents or had gone via a taxi, by herself. 

However, she found that once her eyebrows relaxed, a warmth flooded her cheeks, and she found her lips curling into a small smile. Draco was here, and he was going to go to the station with her. Perhaps years ago she might have been horrified at the prospect of that, but today, it was the greatest comfort she could have ever expected. 

A knock on her door made her nearly jump out of her skin. She leapt back, not having heard anyone else’s voice growing nearer. “Um, who is it?” asked Kit awkwardly. 

“Draco.”

She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but hearing his voice was like a sweet melody sounding in her head. Disregarding the fact she was still in her nightgown and her hair was all mushed, she threw open the door, and engulfed him in her arms. Draco was taken by surprise, but he hugged her back, his hands tracing over her back and settling on her waist. He felt his heart beat faster, and he smiled to himself as her hair tickled his nose.

When she pulled away, however, his eyes widened and he covered his face. “I am so sorry,” he spluttered awkwardly. “I didn’t know you had just woken up!”

“It’s just a nightgown, Draco, and it’s not see through,” she giggled. Perhaps at the beginning of the summer, she might have been self conscious, but not now. She was confident in herself. A nightgown was no more indecent than other things she’d had to wear on her mother’s orders. 

Draco uncovered his face slowly, his cheeks pink. “I um, well— I suppose, but mother says it’s very inappropriate to look at someone while they’re in their nightgown.”

“Nah, you’re fine. Come in, you can sit down while I go get dressed and braid my hair.” 

Draco moved slowly into her room, biting his lip. He hadn’t been inside of there since they were younger and had been playing hide and seek. It looked very simplistic now, and he watched as she darted into the bathroom after yanking something out of her closet. He took a careful seat on her bed, brushing the sheets down with his palms as he crossed his ankles and leaned back a bit.

He had been awoken an hour earlier by his father, who had lectured him as he ate breakfast about how he should be on the lookout for anything suspicious regarding Harry Potter. Draco had just nodded aimlessly, not internalizing most of what he said. Like hell if he was going to spy on Potter for his father. No chance. Not when he was trying to get Kit to notice him. The day before when he’d seen how gorgeous she’d gotten, he’d decided that he was going to ask her to be his girlfriend some day in the future. He had not admitted this to Blaise, but he supposed he’d run the idea by him eventually.

Thus, when his father had finished badgering him about behaving and listening to the apparent new authority that would be present at Hogwarts, he had abruptly asked if they could pick Kit up. Although his own father was more insufferable now than he had been, he felt he preferred to take Kit and be by her side than have her parents take her or watch her go by herself with a Muggle who could have some evil intentions. Lucius had agreed, and Draco hadn’t hesitated to prepare his things to pick her up. 

Minutes later, Kit exited, her hair in two neat braids, already dressed in uniform, just like himself. She looked so beautiful as she came out, smiling, and he found himself grinning up at her. “I’ve got everything packed already,” chirped Kit. “I just need to go down and eat some breakfast. Mind coming with me?”

“Of course not.” He stood immediately and offered her his arm, which he noticed made her avert her gaze as she took it. Was she shy about accepting, or did she feel obligated to? He hoped it was the former and not the latter.

He led her out of her room, just listening to her steady breathing as they descended the staircase. No words needed to be exchanged. They were mutually enjoying each other’s presence and oblivious to the fact they both fancied each other. 

They had a quiet breakfast, listening to Lucius and Kenneth’s distant conversation about the Ministry of Magic and who knows what. Neither Kit nor Draco seemed to know what they were discussing, which Kit found strange since Draco usually was kept up to date by Lucius. In fact, it was near the end of breakfast that she noticed that one of his eyes looked different.

“What happened to your eye?” she asked immediately, letting her spoon fall. Draco straightened up awkwardly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Draco, your eye,” said Kit a bit more sternly. “It looks like it was recently swollen.”

“I hit it on a door,” he said simply, not wanting to tell her that just days ago he’d been punched by his father.

Kit couldn’t believe she had not noticed it the day before. She supposed she had been too excited seeing Blaise and Draco again. But now, she could not ignore what was clearly a healed swollen eye. The hitting on the door excuse was one she’d used herself in the past, when Su Li had once noticed a bruise on her body. 

“Your father hit you,” she deduced, in a deadly silent voice so that their fathers wouldn’t hear. “He hit you— again.”

How could he admit to her that she was right? How could he admit how violent Lucius had become that summer? Nothing was as bad as what she had gone through. He didn’t want her to pity him, he didn’t want her to grow angry and accidentally (or intentionally) snap at Lucius or even worse— her own father.

“Fine, yes,” he hissed lowly. “But don’t say anything. Please, Kit, I’m begging you.” His eyes were pleading, and it was only the fearful look in them that made Kit stand down, though her anger was far from dissipated. 

Before she could ask anything else, the door opened, and Alison stood in the doorway, looking over at them. “Your father is ready for you all to leave,” she announced, staring blankly at Kit. Her heart ached thinking that she would have to wait until the holidays to try and get her mother out of her trance. She stood, and went toward her mother, smiling at her before kissing her cheek. “I’ll see you at Christmas, mother.” Alison nodded slowly, as if refraining from telling her to piss off, or something. Draco followed behind Kit as she went up to her bedroom to get her trunk.

“Allow me,” he said, taking it for her. “Thank you,” answered Kit as he took it down for her, trotting down the stairs to where Lucius was waiting in the entrance hall for them. Kit had to grit her teeth and force herself to smile and curtsy to Lucius as he bade goodbye to Kenneth and led the two teenagers out the door.

When they arrived at the station, Lucius beckoned them forward with their trunks, lingering behind as if waiting for something. Kit and Draco moved silently forward with their respective trunks, through the barrier and onto the platform. 

“I can take our trunks to the usual compartment,” Draco offered. “You can wait out here for your… friends.”

“I’d appreciate that,” said Kit softly, blushing as he effortlessly took her trunk and went into the train. Kit remained on the platform, clasping her hands together and looking around. She didn’t expect that the Weasleys and Harry had arrived yet, considering that the large amount of children to account for usually made them run late. 

“KIT!”

She looked up and grinned, seeing Mrs. Weasley, Harry, and a large black dog walking beside Harry. She recognized it to be Sirius, and she began to run over to them. She was just about to engulf Harry into a hug when she froze, seeing who was behind them.

Alastor Moody. The real one. His magical eye was whizzing around as he limped through the archway with a trolley loaded with trunks (presumably the ones belonging to the Weasley children and Harry). Albeit knowing that this was the true Auror that was meant to protect Harry, Kit was rooted to the spot, staring up wide eyed. She had not pictured that face in so long. Suddenly every memory came flooding back, and she felt her chest ache. 

The dog beside Harry abruptly jumped up onto two legs, pressing its paws onto her and licking her face, which snapped her out of her thoughts. She shakily ran her hands down its fur, knowing that Sirius had sensed exactly what she was feeling.

“All okay,” Moody grumbled to Mrs. Weasley as he came forward. “Don’t think we were followed.”

He looked down at Kit, and she gulped as she looked back up at him. “You’ll be the Thompson girl, yes?”

Kit nodded, unable to speak. Mrs. Weasley then promptly wrapped her arms around her, and Kit let out a sigh of relief.

“Kit!” Next thing, she could no longer see Moody, as Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and the twins had come up, turning it into a group hug that squished Kit in the middle. 

“Hi, everyone,” she said weakly, keeping her eyes slightly downcast. When they let go of her, Remus Lupin moved forward to shake Kit’s hand. “Kit, it’s good to see you.” 

“You too, Professor,” she said, looking warily to where Moody was standing behind him. 

It seemed everyone was now well aware of the fact Kit didn’t look very comfortable, and Lupin took charge in dismissing them. “Look after yourselves, and be careful,” he instructed. 

“Yeah, keep your head down and your eyes peeled,” added Moody. “And donʹt forget, all of you— careful what you put in writing. If in doubt, donʹt put it in a letter at all.” He then cast his eyes toward Kit. “Thompson, a word.”

“Um, no thank you,” she said immediately, which she noticed made everyone look over at her. It was Arthur Weasley who moved up to her. “That’s alright, Kit, no pressure, Mad-Eye just wanted to relay some information to you, and ask you a few questions.”

She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Er… well, I’ll do it, but I prefer if one of you are with me.”

“I’ll go with her,” said Lupin, which Kit nodded to. He was the only adult who knew about her home life, and if the questions had anything to do with that, she preferred not to worry Mr. or Mrs. Weasley with that discovery. 

Lupin put his arm around Kit and led her to the side, where Moody was leaning against a pillar.

“Well, Thompson, I’m glad we can officially meet,” said Moody, less gruffly than how he had been speaking earlier. “I… was sorry to find out about what happened with that impostor.”

Kit nodded slowly. “Er… well, thank you. What did you want to ask?”

“Black informed us about the incident with your parents in the Hospital Wing, and Lupin seems to know more about you than the other Order members. I was wondering if you were comfortable sharing information. Your father is near the top of our list to be watched. I doubt you’re opposed to that.” 

Kit cursed internally. She had hardly thought about how Sirius had stepped in when her parents had been harassing her in the Hospital Wing. However, she wasn’t going to hold back on telling the truth. Though she felt afraid in his presence, she forced herself to remember that this was the real deal Auror that she could trust. 

“Yes,” she said. “Er— Professor Lupin is the only one that knows that my parents are abusive at home, because he saw my boggart. I’m sure Dumbledore knows, but I don’t trust him.”

Moody raised a singular eyebrow. “You don’t trust Albus Dumbledore?”

“No, I don’t. But that’s not the point. I haven’t really relayed this information with anyone else, but I believe that the abuse I dealt with on my mother’s part came from some sort of mind control.” Moody gave her a strange look, and Kit lowered her voice as she explained to them exactly what had happened in the Hospital Wing, and what she had noticed with her mother’s odd behavior. She refrained from mentioning the use of the Unforgivables, though it seemed they both already knew.

“You had never noticed that in your mother before?” asked Moody, deep in thought. 

“Never. Whatever he’s doing to control her, he must always refresh it when I’m not there, but that time, the conversation triggered her. I have a plan to try and trigger her again at the holidays, when my father isn’t around. I can get her out of the trance and we can run away at a moment’s notice.”

“Not a good idea, Thompson,” said Moody immediately. “You don’t know what can happen if she gets out of it and your father isn’t there. What if she gets even more violent? What if she loses consciousness? You shouldn’t take those chances. It will get you hurt.”

Kit felt a twinge of annoyance that they were now telling her not to go through with it, but the concerned look that Lupin gave her reminded her that they were just concerned. They knew what Kenneth Thompson was capable of. 

“We will be in touch, Kit,” said Lupin, looking back as the train got ready to leave. “Stay safe.”

Kit nodded to both of them before turning to get onto the train, waving back at the others. She then made her way to the prefect carriage, hoping Draco was already there. She hoped the meeting wouldn’t be too boring, having to listen to the Head Boy and Girl tell them their orders and show them the schedule for corridor patrol. Kit supposed she should be thankful that Flitwick had chosen her (despite her not understanding what in his right mind had led him to select her over Su or Mimi or even Padma), because it now meant she could roam around late at night without getting in trouble. 

She arrived in the carriage and was pulled down by Draco. She blushed and looked over at him quizzically.

“I was worried where you’d gone, took you awhile to get here,” he said seriously.

“I was meeting my friends,” she said simply. She leaned back as the others flooded in. Pansy Parkinson took her seat on the other side of Draco, giving Kit a nasty look. Next thing, Anthony Goldstein plopped down beside Kit.

“Hey, Kit!” he said brightly. “I was wondering which from our group would be prefect.” 

Draco seemed to tense beside her as she shook Anthony’s hand. She didn’t get a chance to ask him, because soon the meeting began. 

As it turned out, being a prefect might be Flitwick’s way to torture Kit. The Head Boy and Girl (Roger Davies and Alicia Spinnet) let them know how they had to uphold Hogwarts values and blah blah blah… Kit tuned out within the first five minutes.

Near the end, Roger and Alicia encouraged them to greet each other properly, and suddenly, Kit had to snap out of her daydreams and look up as many of her acquaintances came to greet her.

“Kit!” Hannah Abbott moved forward and hugged her. “Good to see you! Guess what, I’m trying out for the team this year!”

“That’s good,” said Kit happily. “Get ready to get your ass handed to you when we play you.”

“Not a chance! I’ve been practicing all summer, and I’m sure I will make a good Chaser.”

“I don’t doubt it for a second but I know my team,” chirped Kit. 

“You’re on, then! We’ll make a bet once tryouts are over, and then we’ll see.” 

Kit smirked as Hannah ruffled her hair and moved on. She was then greeted by Ernie Macmillan.

“Kit, I’m glad we’ll get to work together more,” he said, shaking her hand excitedly. Kit hadn’t talked much to Ernie, but now he seemed overly friendly. She smiled up respectfully. “Yes, I suppose we will. Sounds like fun.”

“I think our first rotation for shifts will be together, want to go around the hallways together? We can keep each other compan—”

“Didn’t you listen at all, Macmillan?” snapped Draco suddenly, making Kit flinch. “Prefects aren’t supposed to be going around together, the point is to spread out and cover more ground. It’s pitiful you couldn’t listen to simple instructions.”

“Draco!” snapped Kit as Ernie gritted his teeth. “Piss off, Malfoy, because if I recall correctly, you’ve been staring at Kit this entire meeting.”

Draco stood up, and it seemed both Kit and Pansy thought to yank him down, while Anthony leapt up to push Ernie back. “Don’t test me, Macmillan,” sneered Draco, shoving Pansy off his arm before leaving the room, Pansy trailing behind.

Ernie huffed, brushing his shirt down. “I’m so sorry about that,” Kit said quickly, feeling embarrassed. 

“Not your fault, Kit,” he assured her, offering her a half smile. “I’m not looking forward to being on the same shift as him.”

“I’ll talk to him,” she promised. “Maybe he’ll listen to me.”

“I doubt that. But thanks for trying. I’ll see you around, Kit.” He moved away before she could respond, and Kit quickly moved past the crowd, and out of the compartment.

“Kit, wait!” She turned, seeing Hermione and Ron following her. “Hello,” said Hermione, “I was wondering if you wanted to join us in our compartment.”

“Maybe in a bit,” she said, walking backwards. “I need to go find out what’s up with Draco. Once I find Blaise, I’ll take him too.”

Kit noticed Hermione’s cheeks turned pink, and Ron smirked knowingly, though he didn’t say anything about the matter. “Say, Kit, you didn’t tell me your friend Su was such a Quidditch fanatic,” he said. “She owled us when she couldn’t contact you.”

“I could have sworn she mentioned it when she was with us before,” said Kit.

“Well, yeah, I knew she liked Quidditch, but she’s basically a walking Quidditch Statistics Book! She knew facts about the Cannons that I didn’t even know.”

Kit found a smirk growing on her own face. “Well, now you know. I might take her to the compartment too, if I can peel her away from Anthony later.”

Ron frowned. “Oh, they’re still together?”

“Yeah, to my knowledge. Anyway— I’ll see you soon!” She turned back and began to speed walk to where she knew Draco would be.

She found him in his usual compartment, looking sourly at the floor while Theodore Nott and Pansy talked his ear off about who knows what.

“Hey,” said Kit, peering in and not seeing Blaise. Maybe he had already left to find Hermione. “Draco, can we talk?”

Draco stood up, following her out, and Kit awkwardly shut the door as Theo and Pansy shared a strange look.

“What’s wrong?” she asked Draco as soon as they were out of their earshot. “What happened back there?”

“He was hitting on you!” said Draco harshly, looking thoroughly annoyed. “Can’t you see that?”

“Woah, take a step back from that,” she said, holding her hands up to his chest. “I’m not going to let him make a move on me. He knows about our… predicament.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t seem to care when he offered to walk around with you,” Draco spat.

“Draco, you don’t need to be jealous,” she said softly. “He isn’t—”

“I am not jealous,” Draco said immediately. “I just don’t like him. He’s a stuck up little prat who thinks he’s so high and mighty but all he is a stupid Hufflepuff—”

“Draco!” hissed Kit, glaring up at him. “Shut up! Bloody Merlin, control yourself! He didn’t do anything, and I wasn’t going to let him do anything.”

“Well he better not,” growled Draco under his breath. “You’re not his to claim.”

“Excuse me? I don’t belong to anyone, thank you very much.”

He gritted his teeth and ran his hand down his face. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. Just— stay away from him.”

With that, he turned and left.

_Comment for more :)_


	33. Chapter 33

**The instant Kit pulled Blaise out of the shared compartment that they’d been in with Hermione and the others, she let out a low huff.**

“...and then he said that I’m not Ernie’s to claim! What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know how Draco can get when he’s jealous,” sighed Blaise, shrugging. “He and Ernie have never liked each other— not that Draco is even friends with any males outside Slytherin.”

“It felt like he just objectified me, and it made me angry,” said Kit. “He hasn’t tried to discuss this impending stupid marriage, yet he acts like I belong to him!”

“Well, you don’t. Tell him that straight up— he needs to know not to act like that.”

“Fat load of good that’ll do me. He’s… he’s going through a rough patch and I want to be understanding but sometimes he’s just so infuriating.”

“I know,” said Blaise dejectedly. “That’s how he’s always been. He spend the whole summer stuck in his house with his father and unable to see you. Now that he gets to be by your side again, he’s going to be more protective, considering what happened last year. Seriously, talk to him. Tell him it makes you uncomfortable. He’ll listen to you.”

Kit sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I hope so. It’s so different and weird between us now, Blaise. Things can’t be the same anymore.”

Blaise raised his eyebrow curiously. “Different how? You didn’t mention anything yesterday.”

Kit bit her lip. “Forget I said that. Let’s just go back to the compartment.”

How could she admit it? How could she just tell Blaise that she was certain she fancied Draco now? After all the time she’d had to herself, she had come to terms with the fact that seeing him made her _feel_ something.

It hadn’t been perceptible at first. On the days when she missed Blaise, Draco, Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Su immensely, she had tried to think of other things, and it had worked. But eventually she always came back to the memories of their faces, their voices and laughter. However the one she seemed to have always fixated on most was Draco. How his eyes shone when he was talking about Quidditch or Potions. How his mouth wrinkled near the edges when he was genuinely smiling at something funny. How he would smirk or raise his eyebrows to taunt her or Blaise when they were having friendly arguments. How she missed seeing him hunched over and writing full speed to finish a paper. The way his entire face lit up when he got a good grade for his efforts. The way he’d subconsciously straighten his body up when a conversation became serious, and listened intently.

Kit was not ready to fully admit to Blaise that she was certain she fancied Draco. Even despite his temper and who he had been before. She felt he was changing for the better and she wished that Lucius wasn’t making things worse for him. How she hoped that another entire year by his side would help bring out the good in him that she knew was there. She couldn’t believe that just a year ago, he had started walking her to her dormitory and being all passive aggressive when she questioned him. Now, it was at the point where she expected nothing less from him, and she could go back to feeling safe in his presence.

“Kit?”

She blinked and looked up at Blaise. They were still in the same spot. They hadn’t moved, despite Kit being sure she had started walking back to the compartment. Blaise was smirking like he knew something. 

“Do you have something to say?” asked Kit immediately, feeling her cheeks heat up.

“You fancy him.”

She gritted her teeth and looked down immediately. “I wasn’t about to admit that so openly… but fine. I do. I really, really do. And after I saw him again yesterday and this morning… it just kind of put the pieces of the puzzle together. But like I said before… I’m not ready for a relationship and he isn’t either. If he’s that jealous when we’re not together, can you imagine what will happen when we are? He’s… he’s still toxic, Blaise. I can’t date him yet. We’ll hurt each other. We’ll bicker often.”

“I know, you mentioned that last time you said you thought you fancied him. Still, owning it is good, Kit.”

“I suppose so but it’s just so complicated. Now that I realized I like him… it’s making me more confident. He saw me in my nightgown today! And I didn’t even bat an eye! I let him stay in my room while I got dressed, I sat beside him in the prefect meeting even though I had the option to move…”

Blaise smirked at her, making Kit give him a sour look. “Someone’s a little head over heels. Fantasizing about kissing him? You had a whole summer to let your thoughts wander.”

Kit’s face turned crimson, and she struggled to form words. “I did not— how could—” she huffed and narrowed her eyes. “So what if I did? Nothing can be worse than what you must think about Hermione!”

“I can assure you my thoughts are very holy. I plan to get closer this year and ask her to be my girlfriend by this time next year.”

That certainly made Kit snap her thoughts away from Draco, but she didn’t get to inquire further, because Blaise (looking smug as ever), tucked his hands in his pockets and walked away. 

When they arrived in the compartment, Kit found it already filled with people. Ginny, Neville, and Luna Lovegood were crammed inside with Hermione, Harry, and Ron. 

“We’ll sit on the floor,” said Kit, climbing over the pile of legs and sitting down near Luna. She looked up and smiled. “Long time no see, Lovegood.”

“Oh Kit, you look so pretty,” said Luna in her characteristically dreamy voice. Kit always found it soothing. If she were into women, Luna would be a perfect contestor for her affections. She was gorgeous, intelligent, interesting, and kind. Though the two girls didn’t talk much, they seemed to consider each other mutual friends.

“You look good yourself,” chirped Kit. 

“You’ve cut your hair. Is it because of the Nargles?”

At this point, Kit had gotten used to going along with it. After all, if she couldn’t disprove the existence of Nargles, she might as well accept the fact that Luna believed in them. “I suppose that helps, but I was really annoyed of the long hair. It’s just weird not being able to tie it back the same way.”

“Braids will certainly help with shorter hair,” said Luna very seriously, nodding at the braids Kit had done on herself. “And the braids keep you focused so you don’t daydream. That’s when the Nargles take advantage.”

“I’ll take that advice. Time to learn to braid my hair in different ways.” She then looked over and saw Harry holding a copy of The Quibbler. “Hey, Harry, can I read it after you?”

“Sure,” he said. Ron peered over as Harry closed the magazine and handed it to Kit. “Anything good in there? I’ll take a turn after Kit.”

It seemed Hermione already had planned to answer Harry. “Of course not. The Quibbler’s rubbish, everyone knows that.”

Luna shot her gaze up, looking annoyed. “Excuse me. My father is the editor.”

Hermione looked thoroughly embarrassed. “I— oh.. Well… it’s got some interesting… I mean, it’s quite…”

“I’ll have it back, thank you, Kit,” said Luna coldly, snatching it out of Kit’s hands. She turned it upside down and held it up over her face.

Blaise and Kit exchanged an awkward look as Hermione shrank back, looking absolutely mortified. 

“So,” said Ron, eager to change the subject. “What was the deal with Malfoy?”

“He’s jealous,” piped up Blaise. “Ernie was flirting with Kit, it seems.”

“I hardly consider it flirting,” muttered Kit. “He was just offering to walk with me during prefect shifts.”

“Technically we can’t do that,” said Hermione in a small voice, as if worried Luna would snap at her again. 

“I didn’t know that, I wasn’t paying attention. But Draco chimed in all too eagerly to shut Ernie down. This arranged marriage is pure bollocks.”

“Arranged marriages are still a thing with your families?” asked Neville, bewildered. “Gran says that most Pureblood families eradicated that.”

“Not the stupid ones like mine,” sighed Kit. 

“You have to marry Malfoy, then?” said Neville.

“Probably. But if he continues to be… nicer… maybe we can cancel it. He’d have to agree.”

“He has been better, lately,” noticed Neville. “I saw him on the train earlier and he didn’t shove me out of the way. Didn’t acknowledge me either, but still…”

Blaise nodded in approval. “We’re working on it. Maybe by next term, Draco won’t be acting like such a prick.”

“And then Kit can finally snog him,” snickered Ginny. Kit blushed and nudged her with her foot. “You hush up, Ginny, we are not talking about that.”

“Ooh, Kit is fantasizing about snogging Draco Malfoyyyy—”

“Ginny, I swear to Merlin—”

“Kit wants to snog Draco Malfoyyyy—”

The boys started chuckling as Ginny kept cooing, making Kit nudge her playfully. She didn’t actually mind the taunting but the imminent fear of Draco passing by and hearing was making her heart beat painfully in her chest. “Ginny, I will slaughter you—”

“—after you snog Draco Malfoyyyy—”

The compartment door opened and Kit nearly had a heart attack, only to see Fred and George looking down at them. 

“Look at ‘em, George, they’re packed in like sardines,” mused Fred. “Now, what’s this about snogging Draco Malfoy? Don’t tell me Ron finally fessed up to his hidden affections for him.”

“Don’t be stupid,” said Ron. “They were talking about Kit.”

“Oh, what’s this?” said George, looking very interested. “Has our teeny little Thompson finally set her sights on someone?”

“Very funny, you two,” said Kit, rolling her eyes. 

“Well, we had to ask,” said Fred innocently. “We came to fetch you anyway, and would you believe that Malfoy is the one asking for you?”

Kit raised her eyebrows. “He’s doing what now?”

“We saw him in the hallway and he asked if we could get you and Blaise,” announced George. “We were about to tell him where he could shove it until we realized he hadn’t thrown in an insult with his request.”

“Oh. Well… that’s an interesting turn of events.” Kit scrambled up, followed by Blaise, who tripped over Neville’s legs and collided with Fred. “Woah there, mate, I’m spoken for,” teased Fred. 

“Sorry,” said Blaise quickly. “Thanks for letting us know. Er— see you around everyone… and Hermione.” He darted out, and Kit followed him, a grin on her face.

“Wonder what Draco wants,” she thought aloud. 

“Well, our trunks are in his compartment. He probably is expecting us to hang out.”

They made their way to the other end of the train, and found a very bored Draco with a book over his eyes, completely alone. 

“You require our presence, Master Malfoy?” asked Blaise in a playful tone as the two stepped in. Draco sprang up, looking significantly calmer than he had earlier. He smiled up at Kit and took her hand, bringing her to sit beside him.

“I just wanted to sit with you two,” he said pleasantly. “Theo and Pansy went off to snog, I think, and Crabbe and Goyle are having a discussion with our other Quidditch teammates.”

“Are Theo and Pansy an item?” asked Kit, confused. “But she seemed so jealous seeing me with you earlier.”

“They’ve certainly become _something_. I don’t know about the ‘item’ term but they’re touchy.” He looked up almost shyly, but said nothing else.

Kit hummed and crossed her legs, leaning back in the seat. “Interesting. They’ll be good for each other, I think. I don’t really know them very well. Where’s Millie?”

“I have no idea. She has her other friend group, never really sits with us.”

Blaise looked between Kit and Draco. “You know what?” he said. “I’m going to go get some snacks.” He left before either of the two could object.

Blaise’s departure made for an awkward silence.

“I’m sorry.” It was Draco who spoke first, making Kit turn to him. “I know I shouldn’t have gotten so angry. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

Kit was almost too shocked hearing him apologize to internalize the fact that she needed to respond. “Er… you’re forgiven. Just try not to do that again. I don’t belong to anyone, I’m independent. And you really don’t need to be jealous of Ernie. He’s not my type.” 

Draco looked almost crestfallen. “Oh… not into blondes or something?”

“Not into boys who I hardly know,” she said, squirming in her seat. 

This was where it got the most awkward. What should she say? Should she admit what she felt? It was obvious that they both knew _something_ was going on between them. They both felt it. They had spent so much time together, they’d held hands, nearly kissed each other on the forehead and cheek. Neither could deny that something was stirring, but it seemed both had made up their minds that they couldn’t go through with it. 

“Are we going to discuss the elephant in the room?” said Draco, sounding mildly impatient. “Or are we going to pretend there is nothing to say?”

“What would you like me to say, Draco?” asked Kit, turning to face him. “Do you want me to admit my growing feelings? Do you want me to explain why I don’t think either of us are ready to do anything with that information? Do you want me to talk about the marriage and how neither of us are really opposed to it, but also not eager to go through with it? Pick a topic. Let’s discuss if you really want. But if it’s just going to be awkward between us… we might as well pretend this didn’t happen and just continue getting along as we have been.”

Draco kept his face emotionless, though it was clear to Kit that a million thoughts were racing in his head.

What should he respond with? _Yes, Kit, I fancy you, and I want more than anything for us to just jump into a relationship because as cheesy as it sounds, I think we were meant to be together, even though I still can’t stop being an arse to your friends and both of us are experiencing different types of abuse at home, meaning we are in no way ready for this?_

He wished he had the balls to say that. But it was too soon.

“I don’t think either of us are ready for this conversation,” mumbled Draco. honestly “So I think we should forget it... just for now. The last thing I want to do is hurt you, and I have done enough of that already. So please… let’s just play Gobstones or something. Eventually, I promise, we will talk about this. I think we need time before that happens."

Despite the strong urge to counter him and have the discussion anyway, Kit knew he was right. What would they really say? They had barely rekindled their friendship over the past year and things were just getting more difficult. Now was definitely not the time to admit their feelings because what then? Neither of them were mentally stable and things would get messed up.

“Good idea,” she said calmly as he extracted the materials from his trunk.

And so continued the rest of the train ride. Eventually Blaise came back, and they started a conversation about Quidditch as if nothing was out of the ordinary. When Pansy and Theo returned, it seemed the tension was broken more, and for the first time in probably forever, Kit was able to get along well with Pansy while they argued about which core classes would have a harder O.W.L. for them to take.

Once they drew nearer to Hogwarts, it was as though nothing wrong had ever happened between the group. They got their robes on once the lanterns were lit, and remained chatting about classes as though they had all been friends forever. Kit supposed that now that Pansy had set her sights on Theo, she didn’t have reason to be too bitter with Kit. Kit found it nice to talk to Pansy— she was actually very interesting and had some pretty good ideas to share with everyone. In another reality where Kit might have been a Slytherin, she supposed she and Pansy could have been best friends. 

Once the train slowed down, Draco nudged Kit and Pansy. “Time to go keep the first years from being trampled,” he said boredly.

“See you later, then, I have to go meet Anthony,” said Kit, flashing him a smile. He returned it. She waved at Pansy before slipping out to find Anthony. 

It seemed there wasn’t too much to do. Anthony and Kit found each other near the back end of the train, and were easily able to determine who was a first year by the worried expressions on their faces. They directed them over to where Professor Grubbly Plank was calling them to go into the boats.

“Where do you reckon Hagrid is?” asked Kit aloud once they’d made a path for the first years.

“Dunno,” said Anthony. “Mimi mentioned earlier on the train that apparently the Ministry got really involved with who’s part of the staff here. Not sure what that means, though.”

“I have been in the dark about what’s happened over the summer,” sighed Kit dejectedly, lunging forward to catch an owl cage as it was knocked out of a third year’s arms. The little boy thanked her and she beckoned him along. 

“Five Galleons says our new Defense Professor is a twat,” Anthony challenged once they were away from the younger students.

“Ooh, you’re on,” replied Kit.

She then bade him farewell. She moved quickly toward where the carriages were already heading toward the castle with any students who weren’t first years. She found Harry, Ron, and Luna having just gotten all together.

“Hello,” said Kit as Luna handed Ron the cage with Pigwidgeon in it.

“There you are, Kit!” said Luna. “Ron’s owl is a sweet little thing, isn’t he?”

“Er… yeah… he’s all right,” said Ron gruffly, making Kit roll her eyes. “Well, come on then, let’s get in… what were you saying, Harry?”

“I was saying, what are those horse things?” Harry said as they climbed into a carriage where Hermione and Ginny were already waiting for them. 

“What horse things?” asked Kit.

“The horse things pulling the carriages!” said Harry impatiently. “That! Look!”

He pointed to the empty space between the shafts of the coach. “There! It’s right there in front!”

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” said Ron. 

Harry looked thoroughly confused as he looked between Ron and Kit. “Can’t… can’t you see them?”

“Harry, are you feeling okay?” asked Kit. She didn’t see anything, but now she wondered if something was indeed meant to be there. 

“I… yeah. Let’s just get in.” Harry seemed very disappointed as Ron climbed into the carriage. 

“It’s all right,” said Luna dreamily as the others got in. “You’re not going mad or anything. I can see them, too.”

“Can you?” asked Harry desperately. “Oh yes,” replied Luna. “I’ve been able to see them ever since my first day here. They’ve always pulled the carriages. Donʹt worry. Youʹre just as sane as I am.”

Kit was left to sit in silence for the rest of the ride, wondering what they were meant to be seeing. Although her mind wanted to wander to her and Draco’s forgotten conversation, she remained focused on what was before her. She ignored the chatting that was going on between Hermione and Ginny, and neglected to pay attention to whatever comments Ron was making.

What did Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood have in common that made them both able to see something that she herself could not? What was it about their lives and experiences that put them in such a category? 

Kit felt mildly disappointed in herself when she realized she probably wouldn't figure it out any time soon. She didn't know Luna well enough and considering how isolated she had been all summer, there was likely a lot of Harry's life that she had missed. 

For whatever reason, she could not figure it out, but she feared she wouldn't like the answer.

_Comment for more :)_


	34. Chapter 34

**When Kit arrived to the Great Hall, she found herself in an ambush.**

“KIT!” Suddenly she was surrounded by her friends, who she hadn’t seen on the train. Su and Mimi had engulfed her in a tight hug, and she felt Terry ruffle her hair. 

“I can’t breathe,” Kit squeaked, making them let her go.

“How are you?” asked Mimi hurriedly. “You look bloody amazing, oh wow…”

“Thanks,” said Kit shyly. “Shall we go sit down?”

“Yes, let’s, Orla and Isobel are saving us seats.”

The group moved toward their usual placements at the Ravenclaw table. Mimi’s younger sister Isobel and their cousin Orla (now a second year) were scribbling something hurriedly on parchment when they arrived. Anthony took his place beside Su while Terry flopped down next to Mimi. 

Kit couldn’t help but notice that Su and Anthony were acting… different. She wasn’t sure what it was, but something was off. As Mimi started a conversation about their summers, she noticed that Su and Anthony did not, in fact, seem to still be together. They smiled and whatnot but there was no handholding like last time. Kit recalled they said they were waiting for the right moment to be in a relationship yet they’d been so touchy before. What’d happened?

“Kit?”

It seemed she was daydreaming too often now. She looked up. “Huh? What?”

Su smiled. “I was just saying how I think I might start to train more in Quidditch this year so that I can be on the team next year.”

“Oh. Well why not just train now? You can be on it this year?”

“Ooh, not with O.W.L.s,” she said almost fearfully. “I think I’ll be okay waiting another year. We have too many classes as it is. I don’t know how you’ve managed. Speaking of that— are you still going to be on that weird schedule with the other Houses?”

“Yes,” said Kit. “Probably next year I’ll be back with you all, though, since N.E.W.T. level classes are fairly mixed. For now, though, since Roger still wants a Quidditch period in the day, it’ll have to remain.”

“Wait, how many open spots are on the team this year?” asked Terry. “Michael and Kevin were wondering earlier.”

Kit thought for a moment. “Erm… well, Duncan Inglebee, Jason Samuels, and Grant Page graduated, so that leaves the two Beater positions open and the Keeper spot. Roger will still be Chaser, for sure. I expect I will still be Chaser as well. Norman Chambers and Orion Bradley were the third Chaser and reserve Chaser, respectfully, but I actually don’t know if they will continue— Norman doesn’t see himself playing professionally and I think he wants to leave the spot open. Cho will most likely be Seeker again, I doubt anyone else can beat her for that, but I’d like to see someone try, we need a reserve Seeker anyway.”

“Perfect, Michael and Kevin can try out to be Beaters,” said Terry. “Might be nice for them. I suspect in seventh year, you’ll be Captain, Kit.”

“Or next year,” said a voice from behind. It was Cho, and she seemed to have come for Kit. “I don’t think I’ll want to be Captain.”

Kit stood immediately, her expression grim as she looked into the sad eyes of Cho Chang. They hadn’t spoken in awhile. “Hey… Cho. How are you?”

Cho let out a soft sigh, tucking her hands in her pockets. “As good as can be expected. I tried to owl you all summer… was something wrong?”

“Ah… my parents. They’re not too fond of owls arriving at the house, I’m so sorry I didn’t get to respond,” Kit said.

It was only when Cho gave her a strange look that she remembered that her friends still didn’t know about how abusive her parents were. She imagined they hadn’t heard of parents restricting their children from the outside world for months at a time.

“Um, alright,” said Cho, not wanting to pry. “Let’s have a meal together when you have a chance, maybe? We can catch up.”

“Sure, of course,” said Kit, half smiling as Cho left.

When she sat down, the others were staring at her.

“What happened, Kit?” asked Mimi in a deadly whisper. “What did you mean by—?”

She drew a deep breath and looked up at them. How could she tell them the whole truth? How could she tell them about every painful moment? Their faces had gone pale and they’d cried when she told them about what Barty Crouch Jr. had done to her. How would they react when they learned that this entire time, her anger really had been rooted back at something? She knew they’d always suspected it, but the lack of confirmation left things unsettled.

“They didn’t want me talking to anyone,” said Kit simply, looking down at her empty plate. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

It was clear that they wanted to inquire further, but that seemed to be enough to weigh them into what they didn’t know. She wished she could tell them. She wished she could vent to them about it as she did to Hermione, Blaise, and even Draco. 

“So, er… does anyone know who that pink lady is?” asked little Orla awkwardly.

They all looked up at the staff table. Next to Dumbledore, whispering in his ear, was a woman in a pink cardigan. She had short curly hair an ugly pink band in it. When she faced forward to sip her tea, Su gave out a gasp.

“No bloody way!” she hissed. “That’s Dolores Umbridge!”

“Who’s that?” asked Isobel. 

“She works for Cornelius Fudge! My mum knows her— and hates her. She’s supposed to be really radical and like an evil snake whispering in his ear… only those stuck up Purebloods respect her.”

“I think I’ve heard of her,” mused Kit. “My father mentioned her. They’re friends. Ick.”

“Ick indeed,” huffed Terry. “I don’t like to bash women but seeing her makes me want to gag.”

“Why is she wearing so much pink on her person?” hissed Mimi. “Doesn’t she know it looks terrible on her? Certainly periwinkle or green might suit her better.”

“Is anyone getting any satanical imagery from her?” asked Anthony slyly, making the others smirk. “I really do see an allusion to the devil right there…”

They did not get to ponder more on it, however, because the doors of the Great Hall opened. Professor McGonagall led the first years whilst carrying the tool holding the Sorting Hat.

“Hey, everyone, quiet down,” teased Su. “It’s Kit’s naptime.”

“Right you are,” said Kit, flopping her head down and covering her ears. While someone like Hermione and maybe Su would be interested in the Sorting and whatever the Hat would sing, she certainly wasn’t. She supposed she should be more interested— Hermione had often mentioned how the song sounded somewhat like a prophecy. Kit could care less. 

She tuned out the entire time the Hat sang, and didn’t even sit up straight until Orla nudged her to let her know the plates were filled with food. She then began to eat, though she didn’t really participate much in the others’ conversation. She had missed eating such good food, and she wanted to enjoy it.

Once the end of the feast drew near, Dumbledore got to his feast. The talking ceased, and Kit looked up boredly. Even though he was the Headmaster, she had never cared for his speeches, though she paid attention just so that she wouldn’t miss anything important. 

“Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start of term notices,” said Dumbledore. “First years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students— and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr Filchʹs office door.

“We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

“Fuck,” said Kit, digging into her pocket and handing Anthony five Galleons while most students clapped politely. “Our new Defense teacher _is_ a twat.”

Anthony blew her a kiss. “Thank you, darling,” he teased as he took them.

Dumbledore continued, “Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the—” 

“Hem, hem.”

The entire Great Hall was dead silent as Professor Umbridge stood, as if she intended to make a speech.

“Is she allowed to do that?” hissed Orla timidly as Dumbledore sat down and allowed Umbridge to move forward. 

It seemed she was, granted the fact that Dumbledore stepped down, but the other Professors seemed to be horrified. Kit was sure Professor Sprout and Professor McGonagall were ready to blow a fuse. This woman clearly had never set foot in Hogwarts since her days as a student, because no one had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. 

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Professor Umbridge simpered, “for those kind words of welcome.”

“Commentary time,” said Su under her breath, wincing at the sound of Umbridge’s voice. It was more high pitched and breathy than normal, as if matching with her outfit. The sight and sound of her made for immediate dislike. The others hunched over, ready to put in their share of statements about the speech. 

“Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!” Umbridge smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. “And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!”

“Yeah, right,” mumbled Terry. “Not a soul in here is happy.”

“I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and Iʹm sure weʹll be very good friends!”

“Students only become _friends_ with teachers they want to sleep with,” said Mimi. “I remember third year when all the seventh year girls were fawning over Lupin.”

Umbridge cleared her throat. “Hem, hem.” Was that her signature sound? thought Kit. 

“The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching.”

“That sounds discriminatory, but okay,” said Kit, listening between the lines. She deduced that this woman, like her parents, was the type that thought that many didn’t deserve their magic. 

Umbridge let out another little ‘hem, hem’ and continued. “Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay…”

Kit let her head fall on the table and covered her ears yet again. It seemed commentary time was over, because her friends shared the same sentiment, and all tuned out. Kit heard Orla and Isobel whispering and scribbling on their parchment again. She could feel Mimi and Terry shuffling beside her— they were probably holding hands and leaning on each other again. 

“... Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited.”

The instant she sat down, Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, but most of the students did not. 

“Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating,” Dumbledore said, bowing to her. “Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held...ʺ

“I want to blow my bloody head off,” huffed Su once they made their way out of the Great Hall. “Are we really going to have to have that woman for a whole _year_?”

Mimi sighed sadly. “It seems so. Fuck me.”

“More like, fuck us,” said Terry, sounding defeated.

Kit scrunched up her nose. “I don’t think either of you understand how weird that sounded.”

Mimi blushed, but Terry shrugged. “Oh well. Fuck you, Kit.”

“No thanks,” she said. “I’d rather—”

“—do it with Malfoy,” snickered Su.

"No, I was going to say I'd rather _die_ , but—"

"Don't be ridiculous, Kit, you wouldn't prefer death to going to bed with Malfoy!"

"Su, I swear—"

“Um, what?”

Kit whirled around, and her cheeks turned crimson all over again as she saw a very confused Draco looking at her. She hoped he hadn’t heard what Su said, but considering the smirk he had plastered on his face… 

“It’s nothing,” she said immediately, shoving Su away. “Um, what’s up?” She tried to steady her heartbeat, but her fight or flight response was already activated.

Draco let out a soft chuckle once her friends were out of earshot. “Oh, nothing. I just wanted to ask if you’d be interested in sitting together tomorrow in Potions.”

Kit bit her lip, concealing a smile. “Sure. I’d like that. Are you sure you’re comfortable with that, though? You’d be sitting near Hermione and the others.”

“I don’t mind. Blaise will be there, it’s not like it’ll be weird.”

Her heart skipped a beat out of happiness as she heard the words come out of his mouth. She grinned and nodded. “Sure. Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, then? I have to go show the first years where to go.”

“Of course. See you, Kit Kat.” He caught her hand and squeezed it before brushing past her.

Albeit flustered, Kit hurried back to where Anthony was surely waiting for her. She found him trying to round up the new Ravenclaws, who were asking him several questions.

“Hello!” Kit said brightly as she reached Anthony’s side, making the first years look up at her. “If you would follow us, please, we’ll take you to the Common Room.”

They began to walk, and the questions began anew. 

“Why is the Ravenclaw animal an eagle?” piped up a small voice in the back. 

Kit wanted to say ‘fuck if I know,’ but she refrained from it. Instead, Anthony answered for her.

“Our founder, Rowena Ravenclaw, actually decided for it to be an eagle. But not just any eagle— it’s raven colored, with raven colored claws— hence, Ravenclaw. Eagles are spectacular.”

“Why don’t we get to bring brooms?” asked another voice. 

Kit turned to walk backwards, looking for the person that’d asked that, but found herself unable to locate them. “Er— safety hazard. Quidditch is a rough sport. I’ve broken my bones quite a few times when playing.”

“No way! You play Quidditch?!”

“I want to play Quidditch!”

“Why can’t we play Quidditch?!”

Kit turned to face Anthony, making a face that said ‘help me.’ Anthony smirked and for the rest of the way, they just did their best to answer the questions as they came. The first years were certainly a curious little bunch. 

Once they arrived at the door, the eagle knocker acknowledged them. “What grows bigger the more you take from it?” 

Kit turned to the first years. “Instead of a password, we get nice little riddles to practice with. To get in, you must answer the question. Now, does anyone have any hunches for what the answer is here?”

There was a silence as they thought, before one of the girls near the middle raised her hand.

“A hole?” she asked timidly.

The door opened. “Good answer,” said the eagle. The excited first years clapped for the girl, who blushed and covered her face.

“Let’s make a note here,” said Anthony, holding the door open. “Feel free to be creative with your answers. There is not always a singular right answer. For example, I think ‘debt’ would have been an appropriate response as well.”

“I have a question!” a boy asked. “Are they always questions only Ravenclaws can answer?”

“Not necessarily,” said Kit as the first years began to trail in. “Not that it matters, but any student clever enough to answer has access to the Common Room. I’ve seen it happen.”

Anthony shot her a look as they got the last of the first years in. 

“What?” asked Kit, raising her eyebrow.

“I’ve never ever heard of another student coming into our Common Room. Who did you see doing it?”

Blood rushed to Kit’s cheeks and she fought back a smirk. “Draco, of course.”

“Really? Bloody hell I thought it’d be Hermione for sure.” Once he beckoned the first years toward their respective dormitories, he remained behind and eyed Kit. “Su and I aren’t together anymore. I thought you should know.”

“Oh, alright,” said Kit. Well, that certainly nurtured her curiosities.

“We owled each other about it over the summer. It’s for the best, no hard feelings. Eventually… I can tell you the reason,” he said with a small smile, his cheeks tinted pink. 

He then left, and Kit closed the door behind them. She leaned against it for a moment, a smile coming to her face, thinking about Draco now.

How she wished he was a Ravenclaw. 

Thinking about him just made her yearn to be in his presence. She wondered what he was doing now. Probably in his room, unpacking. She debated sneaking to the Slytherin Common Room and checking up on him, but thought that it maybe wasn’t the best idea. 

However, her impulses won over, and she turned on her heels and darted out of the Common Room.

She didn’t need to travel far. She had barely turned the first two corridors when she nearly collided with him.

“Kit,” he breathed, a smile forming on his face. “I er— I was just on my way to see you.”

“You were?” she felt her face heat up. She hoped she didn’t look too weird looking up at him so eagerly.

“Yes.” He leaned against the wall, looking down at her. “I wanted to tell you in person that you’re free to use Brutus if you need to, at any point in the year. I should have told you earlier."

Kit paused, looking up at him with big eyes. “Wait— are you serious?”

“Of course, Kit Kat, why wouldn’t I be?” he said, perplexed. “He’s always liked you and I think you shouldn’t have to resort to using school owls to—”

He was cut off by her throwing her arms around him. She fastened them around his neck, pressing her face into his chest as she struggled to hold back tears. He had no idea how much it meant to her. Although the school owls had always been available, she’d never felt she had the freedom to use them. She had always wanted an owl of her own, she had wanted that privacy and that connection with a pet. 

“Thank you,” she breathed shakily, swallowing hard and squeezing her eyes shut. 

Draco let his hands rest on her waist, one trailing up and patting her back, holding her steady, as he could feel she was on the tips of her toes. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered gently. “Any time. You know I’ll always be there for you, right? I’m sorry that I wasn’t before. I will never, ever turn my back on you again, Kit Kat. You hear me?”

She pulled away, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked up at him. Her lips quivered as she smiled, and nodded. Draco reached his hand up, tracing down the side of her beautiful face. He let his long and slender fingers cup her jaw, his thumb tracing over her shaky lower lip. Kit leaned into his touch, closing her eyes and breathing out softly as the ring on his finger brought a slight sensation of cold against her cheek. 

Draco wanted more than anything to just kiss her perfect lips. To connect his own to hers and make them either stop trembling, or make them tremble for a better reason. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself. They’d postponed their conversation earlier because neither of them were ready. He shouldn't push it.

Therefore, he moved to kiss her forehead instead, feeling her warm body press against him. He then wrapped his arms around her again, listening as her breathing slowed down.

If he could have stayed like that with her, forever, he would have died a happy man. 

_Comment for more :)_


	35. Chapter 35

**The next morning, no one could deny that something was up with Kit Thompson.**

“What’s got you all smiley?” asked Su, narrowing her eyes and smirking at the brunette as she curled her eyelashes. “You look like you got permission to sue someone you dislike.”

“Oh, I wish,” said Kit, unable to stop grinning.

Nothing had even happened last night. As much as she and Draco had wanted to kiss each other, they hadn’t. But even so, the memory of his hand on her face, the way he kissed her forehead, the way he held her… he had walked her back to her Common Room despite the lack of a threat in the hallways, and he had answered the eagle’s question yet again, though he didn’t follow her in— he just waited until he saw her disappear down her respective corridor. For Kit, it was blissful and it was probably the best night’s sleep she got. For Draco, it resulted in basically no sleep because all he could imagine was the day he’d finally get to kiss those lips of hers.

“Well, spill!” said Mimi, coming up behind the two girls as she fixed her shirt. “You’ve never looked this pleased on the first day of the term!”

“Oooh, did you and Draco finally—”

Kit cut her off by letting out a very uncharacteristic giggle. “No, nothing happened. But I still feel really… happy.”

“Did he ask you to be his girlfriend?”

“Oh, Merlin, no! He just told me I can use his owl whenever I need to. It was touching. He kissed my forehead.”

“Kit!” gasped Mimi. “That’s certainly not ‘nothing!’ A kiss is a kiss! This is the first step!”

Kit covered her face, trying to conceal the blush that was building up. “Don’t mention it,” she said before fanning her face. “I’m expected to sit next to him after that? I practically fainted. How am I supposed to stop blushing all day?”

“Well,” said Su, snatching up Kit’s schedule and frowning. “To be honest, holding back a blush won’t be that bad. You have History of Magic, Potions, and Defense all in the same day? I’d rather off myself.”

“She can’t off herself when she’s so close to finally kissing him!” said Mimi, squeezing Kit’s shoulders. “So many girls would kill each other to be that close with Draco Malfoy. What’s Parkinson even got to say about it?”

Kit shrugged. “Admittedly, not much. She still seems touchy with him when I’m around but whatever she and Theodore have going on is a sufficient distraction other times. She and I had a pretty civil conversation on the train yesterday. I think once she gets over Draco, she might stop being rude. Theo doesn’t get involved in all that, he’s usually a bystander, and with the hopes of Draco’s improvement… there might be less Slytherins badmouthing others this year. I’m looking forward to that.”

“As long as you keep your Slytherin Prince in line, his subjects will follow,” suggested Mimi. 

“Kit’s going to be the princess soon,” teased Su.

“Shush, we’re not discussing that,” Kit said, now working on her eyeliner.

“Well, you might still have to marry the bloke! Shouldn’t be too bad now! I wouldn’t mind waking up next to that handsome thing every day. Do you know if he sleeps nude?”

“Su Li!” shrieked Kit, covering her face yet again. “I’m not— I’m not thinking about that!” Mimi and Su simply seemed pleased to have made her so flustered.

“You dirty minded little thing,” said Mimi, beginning to braid Kit’s hair for her as the girl calmed her breathing down.

“I am not dirty minded,” Kit retorted. “You both are little devils bringing things up.”

“Speaking of that, did Draco say anything about what he overheard yesterday?”

“No, I think I might have died if he did.”

They were incredibly late to breakfast following their conversation. Though still smiley, Kit couldn’t help but feel like blushing every time she cast a glance at the Slytherin table. There he was. With his hair slightly messy, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his tie undone. Clearly, he hadn’t arrived much earlier than she. Unbeknownst to Kit, Draco had struggled getting ready because he, too, was too giddy to keep calm. 

“Must he look so attractive?” Kit muttered lowly. Beside her, Anthony smirked. “Just go snog him already, Kit, what are you waiting for?”

She whined and patted her forehead. “Too soon…”

“It’ll happen eventually, just go for it already!”

“No, I can’t!” she moaned, letting her head hit the table. “I’m not going to be able to get enough.”

Anthony wiggled his eyebrows at her. “That’s not a bad thing, you know. Besides, it’s Malfoy. He’s a taker. He’ll easily be the best snog of your life.”

“He hasn’t even kissed anyone—”

“Even better! He’ll experiment with you.”

“But—”

“Bloody hell, Kit, just kiss him,” said Terry from across, making Mimi giggle. “Seriously. Pin him against the wall and just unleash. I’m sure you both could use a good de-stressing.”

Kit simply pulled her cardigan over her face bashfully, making her friends laugh again.

When breakfast ended, Kit bade them a quick farewell before running to catch up to Ron, Harry, and Hermione, who she had History of Magic with. She found them out in the entrance hall, and held Hermione’s bag to let them know she was there.

“Hey!” Harry said when he saw her. “I was about to ask. D’you know what you want to do after Hogwarts?”

“I want to be a Healer,” said Kit firmly. “Snuffles mentioned that my sister had healing hands, and I have always been fascinated with the idea of helping others get better. I’d like to do that. What about you, Ron?”

Ron hesitated, looking sheepish, and Harry nudged him urgently. “Well, it’d be cool to be an Auror,” said Ron in an off-hand voice. “Yeah, it would,” Harry agreed.

“But they’re, like, elite,” noted Ron. “You’ve got to be really good.”

“Bloody hell, Ronald Weasley,” said Kit, raising her eyebrow. “You literally bested McGonagall’s chess set in first year, you went into the Chamber of Secrets, and you think you don’t have what it takes? It will be a lot of hard work but I’m sure you can do it.”

This made Ron turn slightly pink, and it was clear he was fighting back a smile. “Thanks, Kit. What about you, Hermione?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I think I’d like to do something really worthwhile.”

“An Auror’s worthwhile,” Harry said. 

“Yes, it is, but it’s not the only worthwhile thing,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “I mean, if I could take S.P.E.W. further…”

Harry, Ron, and Kit had to avoid looking at each other. “Well, sure,” said Kit, because she had learned by now that there was no dissuading Hermione from that silly spew thing. “Maybe, though, you could just… defeat the Dark Lord, you know. Take a burden off of Harry’s shoulders.”

Harry snorted. “Please do.”

Once they arrived to the History of Magic classroom, Kit recalled just how much she despised this subject. Professor Binns was just as boring as he’d always been. Since Kit was the only Ravenclaw there, she was likely expected to be taking notes in the same manner Hermione was. However, she remained beside Harry and Ron, playing hangman and scribbling notes so that they could have a conversation. Hermione shot them nasty looks the entire time.

“How would it be,” she asked coldly, “If I refused to lend you my notes this year?”

“We’d fail our O.W.L.,” said Ron. “If you want that on your conscience, Hermione…”

Kit snickered as Hermione snapped at him. “You’d deserve it. None of you even try to listen to him!”

“Hey, I used to try, but historical facts simply don’t stick in my head,” said Kit defensively. “Besides, I can fail History of Magic and still become a Healer.”

“We haven’t go your brains or your memory, or your concentration, Hermione,” said Ron. “You’re just cleverer than we are— is it nice to rub it in?”

“What are we rubbing in?”

Kit turned happily to see Blaise. “Hullo, stranger.”

“Hey,” he said happily. “And for the record, Hermione, Ron’s right. I don’t know how anyone can stay awake in that class. I can barely stay upright in Herbology, and that’s a pretty hands on class.”

Hermione blushed slightly, casting Kit a look as Blaise moved to walk directly beside her. As they turned the corner toward the dungeon, someone walked towards them.

“Hello, Harry! Hi, Kit!”

It was Cho. “Say, Kit, are you free for lunch today?” she asked. “Sure,” answered Kit. Cho seemed to be satisfied with her answer, and turned to Harry, who very shyly greeted Cho.

“You got that stuff off, then?” she asked him. Kit wasn’t sure what she meant, but Harry grinned. “Yeah. So, did you… er… have a good summer?”

Kit winced as Cho looked down a bit sadly. “Oh, it was all right, you know…”

“Is that a Tornados badge?” asked Ron suddenly, pointing at Cho’s robes. “You don’t support them, do you?”

Sometimes, Kit greatly appreciated when Ron would interject to diffuse an awkward situation. And other times, she really wished he’d not speak up. 

“Yeah, I do,” answered Cho, looking confused. 

“Have you always supported them, or just since they started winning the league?” asked Ron, in an accusatory tone.

“I’ve supported them since I was six,” Cho answered coolly. “Anyway… see you, Harry… Kit.”

She walked away, and once she was halfway across the courtyard, Hermione rounded on Ron. “You are so tactless!” she hissed. 

“What? I only asked her if—”

“Couldn’t you tell she wanted to talk to Harry on her own?”

“So? She could’ve done, I wasn’t stopping—”

Kit and Blaise exchanged a look as Hermione let out a huff. “Why on earth were you even attacking her about her Quidditch team?”

“Attacking? I wasn’t attacking her, Hermione, I was only—”

“Who _cares_ if she supports the Tornados?”

“Oh, come on, half the people you see wearing those badges only bought them last season—”

“But what does it matter?!”

“It means they’re not real fans, they’re just jumping on the bandwagon!”

The bell rang, and Blaise decided to loop his arm around Hermione’s waist and pull her forward before she could retort. “No sense arguing,” he said firmly. “Come on, let’s get some proper seats, because I don’t want to spend the term at one of those shitty stations with burn marks on them….”

Harry and Kit shared an exasperated look as Ron threw his hands in the air and groaned. “Maybe you should keep the Quidditch discussions with those who you know well,” suggested Kit. 

“I didn’t think she’d get offended!” cried Ron as they began to follow behind Hermione and Blaise. Kit was displeased that Blaise’s arm was no longer around Hermione. “Perhaps not, but she’s going through a rough patch right now, Ron,” said Kit. “How about this— at lunch, I’ll tell Su to go sit with you and you can bash the Tornados all you want.”

Ron’s face lit up, but he seemed to try and hide it. “Oh! Um, sure. That’d be… nice.”

Kit smirked in triumph as they ducked into the classroom. She looked up to see that Blaise was directly beside Hermione. Ron and Harry took the spots beside them, and Kit took the bench behind Blaise.

“Is this seat taken?”

Kit felt the blood rush to her cheeks as soon as she heard Draco’s voice. “Yes, it is,” she said. “By someone named… Draco Malfoy. Do you know him?”

“Ah, that bloke?” Draco said, smirking at her as he sat down. “Yeah, rings a bell. Super good at Quidditch… a Potions prodigy…”

“Alright, alright, you definitely know him,” she said, her voice softer. “Um, how did you sleep?” She couldn’t help but notice his tie was still crooked, and his hair wasn’t much better.

Draco shrugged. “I slept fine.” A lie. A complete lie. But what else could he say? _Well, Kit, I slept terribly because all I could do was toss and turn and slap myself for not having kissed you properly._

“You slept in, it seems,” she said, raising her eyebrows as she moved to fix his tie. Draco looked down at her, trying to steady his breathing as she worked to straighten it. She then trailed her hand up and flattened his hair. “There, now you look all fixed.”

Draco offered her a small smile. “Thanks, Kit Kat.”

The sound of the door shutting rang into the classroom, and the students looked up as Snape entered. “Settle down,” he said coldly, which made all conversations cease immediately. Kit still felt some annoyance toward Snape because he was still such an arse to everyone, but she also felt a greater sense of appreciation for him, this year. After all, he had kept her safe from Barty Crouch Jr., told Draco to check in on her, and carried her to the Hospital Wing after her encounter with the truth. 

“Before we begin todayʹs lesson,” said Snape, “I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an ‘Acceptable’ in your O.W.L., or suffer my... displeasure.” When he looked at Neville, Kit rolled her eyes. Some things would never change about Snape. She was sure Neville might have been a better student without Snape constantly breathing down his neck. 

“After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me,” Snape went on. “I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye.” This time, his eyes rested on Harry. 

“But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell,” said Snape softly, “so, whether or not you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T., I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students.

“Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy handed with the ingredients, you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing. The ingredients and method—” Snape flicked his wand— “are on the blackboard. You will find everything you need—” he flicked his wand again— “in the store cupboard. You have an hour and a half... start.”

“Easy peasy,” said Draco immediately as Kit hurried to get the ingredients. Her eyes scanned over the blackboard briefly and she returned with their materials. 

Kit wondered if Draco was aware that he wasn’t just a Potions prodigy. He was basically a master.

Throughout the hour and a half, Kit was finding herself not up to par with his level. She had made the quickest work of preparing the ingredients exactly as needed, but even once she started her potion, his seemed to be progressing much better. He was hardly looking up at the instructions, yet he knew exactly what to do. His timing was beyond perfect and Kit wondered how his was better, considering they were doing the exact same thing. Was it that he already had every last step memorized?

Kit had furrowed her eyebrows and adjusted the flames on hers, as stated, humming to herself before beginning to stir the cauldron. She flinched when his hand came over hers. 

“Not like that, Kit Kat,” he said, offering her a grin. “See, when it doesn’t give you any specific stirring method, I have found it works better to tilt it like this—” He moved her hand so the spoon was at an angle— “and swirl it around this way—” He moved her wrist, the angle changing at every cardinal point on the cauldron. “It makes certain you’re mixing it right.”

She blushed when he let go of her hand, and kept following the motions he had stated. Surely enough, the potion changed to match his, the same creamy texture and color dictated by the instructions.

“How did you know to do that?” Kit asked in wonder. “I’ve never stirred like that and I always managed to do them right.”

“Ah, because you’re precise in your other actions,” he said. “You do exactly as it says and you’re patient enough and attentive enough to not miss anything. For me, well, I’ve had a lot of time to study more advanced techniques. My ancestors were good potioneers. I started implementing their tips and I found it helped. Maybe one day, I can deliver my grandfather’s journals to you.”

“I’d like that,” she said, biting her lip.

From there, it was only uphill. Draco didn’t give her any specific tips, but by implementing the single suggestion of the stirring was definitely keeping her ahead of the game. 

“A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion,” called Snape, with ten minutes left to go. Kit’s and Draco’s were exactly on par with that. The shimmering mist of silver vapour floated over both cauldrons, and Kit couldn’t help but feel proud. Snape passed near them and said nothing, unable to critique. However, he stopped in front of Harry’s cauldron.

“Potter, what is this supposed to be?” 

The students went silent and looked up. “The Draught of Peace,” answered Harry. 

“Tell me, Potter,” said Snape softly, “can you read?”

“Yes, I can,” said Harry sharply. 

“Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter.”

Harry did so. “‘Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counter‐clockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes then add two drops of syrup of hellebore.’”

“Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?”

Kit didn’t hear Harry’s response, and Snape beckoned him to be louder. “No,” repeated Harry. “I forgot the hellebore.”

Kit’s heart sank for him. She looked down to where she had written out the instructions and crossed them off as she did them. 

“I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesce.” Snape then turned to the class. “Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name and bring it up to my desk for testing. Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion making, to be handed in on Thursday.”

“That was fucked up,” mumbled Draco as he and Kit filled their flagons. “Longbottom’s was way worse.” Kit raised an eyebrow, and Draco paused. “Er— well, not to call out Longbottom, but Potter’s wasn’t the worst in the class.”

Kit simply let out a sigh. She wondered how Dumbledore could allow such a bully to continue being the teacher. As they got ready to leave the class, Snape called them up to his desk. Kit carefully shouldered her bag and moved forward.

“Mr. Malfoy,” said Snape, looking at Draco first. “If you could refrain from giving tips during the class. It was meant to be an individual assignment.” He glared at Kit. “No doubt your potion was only an O level because of his influence.”

Kit’s cheeks went hot, but before she could retort, Draco spoke for her. “With all due respect, Professor,” he said in a manner that was anything but respectful, “she was doing perfectly fine, I only gave her one tip, and aside from that she knew exactly what to do.”

Snape’s eyes darkened, as if he hadn’t expected Draco to vouch for Kit. “Very well, then, Mr. Malfoy. Next time, speak of tips outside of class. Unfortunately, Thompson can’t have you whispering in her ear during the O.W.L.”

Kit once again opened her mouth to reply when Draco leaned over to Snape. “She won’t need it,” sneered Draco savagely. “She’s perfectly competent. I would think a Professor who gave her so many detentions is well aware that she isn’t a dunce in this subject at all. I’d prefer not to have to write my father because you’re bashing her when you could instead be reprimanding the other idiots in your House. Do I make myself clear?”

Kit gulped as Snape shot Draco a fiery, angry look. “Out of my class, both of you,” hissed Snape lowly. Draco grabbed Kit’s hand immediately and pulled her outside.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said meekly. 

“Yes I did,” said Draco, still sounding pissed. “He’s got no right to say those things to you, and he knows it.”

She stopped in front of him, looking up, her eyes watery again. Twice in the past twenty four hours that she was so touched by his words and actions that she wanted to cry. “Thank you,” she said. Draco’s cheeks went pink. “You’re welcome, Kit Kat,” he said. “I’ll see you in Defense, alright? I have to go back and talk to him alone.”

He turned on his heel and left. Kit decided that next time, she wouldn’t hesitate to kiss him.

_Did I just skive off a class to update because this idea came to mind halfway through my lecture? Of course I did. Happy 400 pages of this book! And the good stuff is just getting here... Comment for more :)_


	36. Chapter 36

**Kit wished the lunch hour wasn’t so long.**

She had arrived right at the start and met Cho at her usual spot, smiling over at her. A greeting was exchanged. A casual ‘how are you’ was asked. Their plates filled. They ate.

But Cho hadn’t started talking.

It wasn’t that Kit didn’t want to speak to her, but she didn’t want to initiate the conversation when it was clearly Cho who wanted to say something. Instead, she remained silent. Half an hour passed and Cho ate slowly. She was taking her time and not speaking in between, and it was aggravating Kit. Cho certainly didn’t deserve her acting all impatient, but Kit couldn’t help it.

For one, she would have liked to be over at the Slytherin table. Draco had arrived late thanks to his choice to talk with Snape alone, and as Kit gazed over, he looked pleased with himself. She loved how smiles looked on his face, even when they stemmed from devilish intentions.

Secondly, the prospect of talking with Cho really did scare her. They had never been very close but their connection with the late Cedric certainly merited the start of a strange friendship. Kit had no idea what Cho wanted to say, either. Kit had done her grieving but it wasn’t the same, because Cho had actually been Cedric’s girlfriend. Kit had had a lonely summer to process everything. Cho had had to attend the funeral, had to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Diggory several times… Kit couldn’t imagine what she was feeling.

The lunch hour was very nearly over when Cho finally decided to speak up. “I’m sorry for the silence,” she said gently. “I don’t even know how to start.”

“Don’t worry,” said Kit out of habit. In reality, she had practically grown an aneurysm from the impatience. 

“I miss him more today than usual,” she said, closing her eyes. “He should be here. He should have been Head Boy. He should have been Quidditch Captain again. He should have gotten to hang out and walk the halls for another year. He should have gotten to graduate.”

Kit nodded grimly. “I know,” she sighed. “It’s… really unfair. I wish there was a reason why such things happen but there really isn’t. I’m sorry that he was the collateral damage in this terrible ordeal. He didn’t deserve it.”

Cho sniffled lightly. “Collateral damage… I hate that that’s what he amounted to.”

“I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have phrased it like that—”

“No, no, you’re good,” said Cho. “That’s how I try to see it, hoping it won’t hurt so much. His parents though… they sort of overwhelmed me. They didn’t want any of that kind of talk. My parents treated me like I’m some sort of fragile object. It’s harder to think things through like that. When you’re being constantly pitied. That’s why I wanted to speak to you. You’re the only one that I think is rational enough not to walk on eggshells around me.”

Kit furrowed her eyebrows. “Well, I was just raised really… really differently. I don’t think I grieve normally at all. My parents… isolated me this summer. I was alone with my thoughts. I was taught not to shy away from death. That whole collateral damage idea… the concept of natural selection… it was drilled in my head since I was little. I never really grew sad about death until this happened. And even then I eventually overcame it, because I know we need to move on.”

“That’s the thing. I want to move on. I do. Cedric was my childhood friend. We didn’t talk for awhile, but it rekindled after you and him were no longer an item. I did start to fall in love with him but… I don’t want to spend the rest of my life crying over it. I understand that this… this is just the horrible bloody start of something worse. Something evil. Cedric didn’t need to die but the blatant truth is that he _was_ collateral damage. And I have accepted that but everyone keeps babying me and making me more emotional, and it makes me feel guilty for having moved on. If I’m going to help stop… You Know Who… then I can’t be stuck in a pit of despair for the next two years.”

It dawned on Kit that Cho needed the validation only she could give. Those who didn’t know Cedric didn’t have a say in it, as they didn’t necessarily grieve him. His closest, closest friends were going through something different because they were so connected to him for many years. But Cho and Kit were somewhat the same. They had had a flame with Cedric but it hadn’t lasted all that long, and both girls were smart enough to know that it was time to move on and make things better so that no one would ever have to die like that again. To Cho, Kit was the only person that could understand that she really wanted closure. 

The bell rang, and Cho let out a soft breath. “Thank you for listening to me. I just needed to vent. No one else would understand if I talked like that… they’d think something was wrong with me.” She caught Kit’s hand as the brunette stood up. “It’s… it’s not wrong of me to want to get past this, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” assured Kit. “You have every right to move on at _your_ pace. No one else gets to dictate that. Don’t let them guilt you into turning into a sad widow, or something.”

Cho offered her a smile, squeezed her hand, and left. Kit sighed and shouldered her bag, making her way out of the Great Hall. Draco met her at the door.

“How was your lunch?” he asked immediately. 

“It was okay,” she said, looking up at him. This time, she wasn’t smiling. She looked sad all over again. 

Draco frowned a bit, and pressed himself next to her, sliding his hand down and lacing his fingers with hers. Kit tensed. “Draco, you don’t need to feel obligated to do this in public if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“It’s okay. I want to.” He let his thumb slide over the back of her hand, and she relaxed in his hold. 

When they entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, both tensed all over again. Professor Umbridge was in her fluffy pink cardigan, seated at her desk. This time, she had a black velvet bow on her head. 

They sat down wordlessly beside each other, not as close to Hermione, Ron, and Harry as before. They were nearer to the Slytherin section, who had taken their places in the back of the room. Kit felt awkward, being the only Ravenclaw in this woman’s class, but she hoped it wouldn’t single her out.

“Well, good afternoon!” Umbridge said when the whole class sat down. A few people mumbled ʹgood afternoonʹ in reply.

“Tut, tut,” said Professor Umbridge. “That wonʹt do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply ‘Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.’ One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!”

Kit and Draco grimaced as they joined the class in chanting, “Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.”

“There, now,” said Professor Umbridge sweetly. “That wasnʹt too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please.”

“Oh fuck me, we’re taking notes,” said Kit, slumping her body down. She reluctantly shifted her quill, ink, and parchment in front of her. 

Umbridge seemed to fixate on her. “Sitting upright, Miss Thompson. Posture is everything.”

Kit gritted her teeth as she straightened up, her cheeks growing hot when she felt the other students staring at her. Professor Umbridge raised her wand, tapping it on the blackboard and making words appear: _Defense Against the Dark Arts - A Return to Basic Principles._

ʹWell now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasnʹt it?ʹ stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class “The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry‐approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year.

“You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory centred, Ministry approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please.”

She rapped the blackboard again to show the course names, which Kit scribbled down reluctantly. For a couple of minutes, all that sounded was the rustling of parchment and quills scratching against it. “Now, has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?” she asked. A small rumble of voices let her know that they did. 

“I think weʹll try that again,” said Umbridge, clearly dissatisfied. “When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply, ‘Yes, Professor Umbridge,’ or ‘No, Professor Umbridge.’ So, has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?”

Both Kit and Draco spoke out, “Yes, Professor Umbridge” between gritted teeth. Kit was pleased that even Draco was annoyed by this teacher. 

“Good,” said Umbridge. “I should like you to turn to page five and read ‘Chapter One, Basics for Beginners.’ There will be no need to talk.” She returned to her desk and sat down, turning to observe the class.

Kit held back a groan as she flipped to the page, beginning to read. Her eyes felt droopy, as they had in History of Magic. She had already skimmed through the book during the summer out of the utter boredom that came with her isolation. She wasn’t sure if she’d misinterpreted it, but it didn’t seem very useful or even full of applications for spellwork. In fact, Kit thought the book was pure theory. She supposed maybe Umbridge would base herself off of that for the active learning? 

Kit’s eyes wandered up, and she realized that she was not the only one who looked confused. In fact, most of the confused faces were looking at Hermione, who had her hand up. 

“Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?” Umbridge asked after a few minutes, when the entire class was staring at Hermione. 

“Not about the chapter, no,” said Hermione.

“Well, weʹre reading just now,” said Umbridge. “If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class.”

“Iʹve got a query about your course aims.” This made Professor Umbridge raise her eyebrows. “And your name is?”

“Hermione Granger.” 

“Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully,” said Umbridge sweetly, though it sounded like a subtle insinuation that perhaps Hermione wasn’t smart enough to comprehend them.

“Well, I donʹt,” said Hermione bluntly. “Thereʹs nothing written up there about using defensive spells.”

Bingo. Kit squirmed in her seat, eager to hear about this. 

“Using defensive spells?” Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. “Why, I canʹt imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely arenʹt expecting to be attacked during class?”

At this, Kit raised her hand. Umbridge looked over at her. “Yes, Miss Thompson?”

“Just to clarify,” said Kit, narrowing her eyes. “I was under the impression this summer— when I looked through the book— that the theories Slinkhard goes into were going to be the basis for your active teachings. Or is that not the case?”

“As I have told Miss Granger, we have no need to actually use a defensive spell,” said Umbridge. 

“So we’re not going to use magic at all?” asked Ron loudly. 

“Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr—?” 

“ʹWeasley,” said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air. Hermione and Harry followed suit. 

Umbridge looked like she was getting annoyed “Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?”

“Yes,” said Hermione. “Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells? I had the same impression as Kit. Why would we learn theory and not apply it?”

“Are you a Ministry trained educational expert, Miss Granger?” asked Professor Umbridge, in her falsely sweet voice.

“No, but—”

“Well, then I’m afraid you are not qualified to decide what the ‘whole point’ of any class is. I— yes, Miss Thompson?”

Kit had stood, with her hand in the air. “Let me get this straight. You’re saying that apparently our past Professors, who taught us how to use the spells hands on, were not on the right track? Because although I agree with you that most were definitely not competent, I’m wondering why we were allowed to have a curriculum using spells for the past, oh, I dunno, thousand years. Perhaps neither Hermione nor I are Ministry trained experts, as you so kindly put it… but is it not useful to actually practice those spells rather than just learn the theory?”

A tittering sound echoed in the classroom, letting Kit know that her fellow students agreed with her. It sounded like they were encouraging her and Hermione’s challenge of Umbridge, which did not bode well. 

“Miss Thompson,” said Umbridge a bit more impatiently. “Wizards much older and cleverer than you and Miss Granger have devised this new program of study for us. This way, you will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk free way—”

“And what use is that?” asked Harry loudly as Draco gently pulled Kit to sit down, sensing the situation was going to get out of hand. “If we’re going to be attacked, it won’t be in a—” 

“Hand, Mr. Potter!” 

Harry thrust his hand in the air, but Umbridge ignored him and turned to Dean Thomas, who like many other students, now had his hand up. “And your name is?” “Dean Thomas.” “Well, Mr. Thomas?”

“Well it’s like Harry said, isn’t it?” said Dean. “If we’re going to be attacked, it won’t be risk free.”

Umbridge’s smile radiated pure irritation. “”I repeat. Do you expect to be attacked during my classes?”

“No, but—”

“I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school,” said Umbridge loudly. “But you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed, not to mention…” she gave a nasty little laugh, “extremely dangerous half-breeds.”

“If you mean Professor Lupin,” fumed Dean, “he was the best we ever had!”

“Hand, Mr. Thomas! As I was saying— you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day. It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you.”

“Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didnʹt he?” said Dean hotly. “Mind you, we still learned loads.”

“Your hand is not up, Mr Thomas!” trilled Professor Umbridge. “Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about.”

At this, Kit slammed her textbook against the desk, making several students flinch. “First of all,” snarled Kit, “I don’t know what gave you the right to address Professor Lupin as a half-breed. Second of all, sure, maybe I agree with you— that impostor we had last year was a stupid fraud and he should have never been allowed in this school, and despite the fact he did teach us a lot, his curriculum was bullshit, but this aftermath is just opening our eyes to the fact we are in danger outside of Hogwarts! All the more reason to learn hands on!”

“Miss Thompson, you would do well to control yourself—”

“No!” she hissed. “No, you know what, I fucking won’t. Last year I had to put up with that impostor of a Professor attacking ME! And yet, you idiot Ministry folks think that what needs changing is the curriculum? You know what, maybe you should be teaching us to defend ourselves from the lunatics that you all don’t know how to control, and start doing actual background checks on the staff you let walk around in this school!”

Kit didn’t care that everyone was staring. She didn’t care that she had just spoken up about the trauma that still ate her alive when she let herself think about it. She was sick of this. 

“Sit down, and be quiet, Miss Thompson,” hissed Umbridge, looking as though she was restraining from reprimanding her further. She turned to where Parvati Patil was raising her hand timidly. “And your name—?”

“Parvati Patil. Isn’t there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.? Arenʹt we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter‐curses and things?”

“As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions,” said Professor Umbridge dismissively.

“Without ever practising them beforehand?” said Parvati incredulously. “Are you telling us that the first time weʹll get to do the spells will be during our exam?”

“She’s right,” hissed Kit in agreement, making Umbridge snap her head towards her. “Or are you uneducated in the actual biology and psychology behind this magic we were blessed with, as you put it yesterday? We have to actually practice several times before getting it right! Just because we know the theory doesn’t mean we can actually move our wand as exactly as is needed to do the spell!”

“Miss Thompson, I don’t recall being told that you, a fifth year student, had any sort of degree in any of those subjects you have tried to school me on. As I said, as long as you study the theory hard enough—”

“But what goodʹs theory going to be in the real world?” said Harry loudly, his fist in the air again.

Professor Umbridge looked up. “This is school, Mr Potter, not the real world,” she said softly, clearly ready to pummel both Kit and Harry.

“So weʹre not supposed to be prepared for whatʹs waiting for us out there?” 

“There is nothing waiting out there, Mr Potter.”

“Oh, yeah?” challenged Harry. 

“Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?” inquired Professor Umbridge in a honeyed voice.

“Hmm, letʹs think…” said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice. “Maybe... Lord Voldemort?”

Several of the Gryffindors let out gasps. The Slytherins mostly tensed, still not caring to get involved. 

“Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter,” said Umbridge. “And as a matter of fact, ten points from Ravenclaw, Miss Thompson.” She turned to the class. “Now, let me make a few things quite plain. You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead—” 

“He wasnʹt dead,” said Harry angrily, “but yeah, heʹs returned!”

“Mr.‐Potter‐you‐have‐already‐lost‐your‐house‐ten‐points‐do‐not‐make‐matters‐ worse‐for‐yourself,” said Professor Umbridge in one breath without looking at him. “As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie.”

“It is NOT a lie!” said Harry. “I saw him, I fought him!”

“Detention, Mr Potter!” said Professor Umbridge triumphantly. “Tomorrow evening. Five oʹclock. My office. I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, ‘Basics for Beginners.’”

Umbridge sat down, but Harry remained standing. Draco held his arm out under Kit’s desk to keep her from standing, though he knew he couldn’t actually stop her. He was afraid of what Umbridge would do. How she would retaliate. He didn’t know this woman personally, but he understood she was bad news. Neither he nor the other Slytherins would dare speak up. It’d get them in trouble with their parents. As much as they silently agreed with the Gryffindors and Kit, they weren’t going to risk their reputations or their good status with their already strict parents just to defend them. 

“So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?” Harry asked, his voice shaking.

Kit felt her chest tighten, and the rest of the class tensed even more. Just as she hadn’t spoken of her trauma, Harry hadn’t spoken out about the night Cedric died. 

“Cedric Diggoryʹs death was a tragic accident,” Umbridge said coldly.

“It was murder,” said Harry. “Voldemort killed him and you know it.”

Professor Umbridgeʹs face was quite blank. For a moment, both Kit and Harry thought she was going to scream at him. Then, in her softest, most sweetly girlish voice, “Come here, Mr. Potter, dear.”

He kicked his chair aside and strode up to the teacherʹs desk. Umbridge took her time writing a note on parchment. “Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear.” Harry took it from her wordlessly and left, slamming the door behind him.

That’s when Kit laughed.

It started as a cough. She had felt pressure building up in her chest. Her knuckles were white from how hard she’d been gripping her desk. Draco tensed beside her, thinking she was going to yell again, when suddenly, the most mirthless laugh tore out of her.

Everyone stared.

Kit couldn’t contain herself, she let go of the desk and covered her face, tapping her feet against the floor as she giggled, before sighing and leaning back in her seat, still smirking and chuckling lightly as she started putting her things away.

“And what do you think you’re doing, Miss Thompson?” said Umbridge in a deadly voice. “What’s so funny?” 

“Oh,” said Kit, biting her lip, her eyes flashing darkly over at the Professor. She felt like she could commit murder. That’s how angry she was. Her laughter made it that much creepier. “Oh… this? I’m packing up my shit. Because… it’s just funny to me that you expect us to respect you and this class… yet it’s called Defense Against the Dark Arts and we’re not going to learn how to defend ourselves properly. It’s almost like… you, a Ministry approved whatever… are scared of the power we hold. So yeah… I’m leaving.”

She stood, and before Draco could hold her down, she stepped forward, turned to the rest of the class, and curtsied. Her face was red and she still looked angry, but anyone who knew her would be able to tell that the look in her eyes wasn’t just from anger. It was from pure panic because she knew what was coming next, and she knew she was going to lose it when she stepped out of the classroom.

“Detention, Miss Thompson,” said Umbridge when she straightened up. “Same time as Mr. Potter. And dear? I’ll be writing to your father about this.”

There it was. Kit looked back at Umbridge sweetly and nodded before striding out of the class. Harry was already long gone, therefore she didn’t see him as she made her way toward her Common Room.

Every step ached. Blood pumped violently through her veins in a fury that she’d never felt before. Her eyes began to water. Her breathing became hoarse, and she let out another nervous laughter before doubling over near a pillar and gasping loudly, clutching her chest. She sank to the floor, plagued by the pain of the stinging tears, her trembling legs, and the headache that came with the influx of memories of last term that she wished she could just forget. 

She couldn’t breathe, and she arched her neck back, hyperventilating, grasping her temples as she fought for the control she’d already lost. She fucked up. But she didn’t regret speaking up. She would never dare to regret using her voice. Not when it came to this type of oppression. Not when lives were at stake. 

Finally her body gave out, and she let out a strangled cry, muffling it quickly in her hands, her wild eyes squeezing shut as a river poured out of them.


	37. Chapter 37

**Draco found her when the class was dismissed.**

“KIT!” He didn’t care who was watching. He bolted toward her and fell beside her, holding her up, and seeing that she looked like she was going to pass out. “Kit— can you hear me? Kit Kat, please, say something.”

“I-I’m fine,” she managed. But she wasn’t. Her face was pale, her limbs were shaking, and she had clearly been crying.

“No you’re not, don’t bullshit me,” he muttered, picking her up in one swift movement. Blaise appeared beside him, coming to where he could see Kit. “Come on, she needs to lay down.”

“Common Room,” said Kit weakly. “Please. Slytherin.”

Draco didn’t need to be told twice. He swept along the crowd, holding her delicately in his arms. He wasn’t walking alone, either. Blaise was beside him, and behind trailed Pansy, Theo, Crabbe, and Goyle. Draco wasn’t sure why they were following but he supposed they were just wanting to do what he was doing.

When they arrived in the Slytherin Common Room, Draco set Kit down immediately. Blaise grasped at his flask of water and coaxed it into Kit’s mouth. She curled up into a fetal position on the couch, letting out a shaky breath and closing her eyes.

There was silence as the group watched her. She shuddered, lost in her own mind. Draco wondered what she was thinking. He was about to move forward when Pansy brushed past and pressed a cold rag on Kit’s head. “Let her sleep,” the girl said, looking up at Draco. 

Kit apparently did. She was breathing softly after awhile, hopefully dreaming.

Pansy was at her side. It was something Draco had never even imagined. Pansy Parkinson tending to Katherine Thompson. She would check her temperature with her forearm, move her head slightly to make sure she was breathing. He even caught her brushing some of Kit’s hair out of her face.

“That Umbridge woman is a vile beast,” grumbled Blaise once Crabbe and Goyle grew too bored with watching Kit. Theo sat in an armchair, nearest Pansy. Draco was on the floor, holding Kit’s hand. She felt cold.

“My father’s mentioned her,” huffed Theo. “She’s one of those arse kissers. Thinks our generation has gone to waste.”

“They weren’t wrong,” mumbled Pansy, so quietly that they could barely hear her. “Everything they said, even the Granger girl. We should be learning defensive spells.”

“We can’t tell her that,” said Theo. “We can’t go against Umbridge, seriously, we need to be careful.”

Pansy scowled. “I know that. The last thing I need is for my parents to find out I’m opposing her…”

Blaise winced. “She’s going to take advantage of us, I know it. I get that you all are in a tougher position when it comes to speaking up… but Umbridge is going to use that.”

“She’s a foul woman, but if staying quiet and listening keeps her from writing to my father, so be it!” hissed Pansy. “Not all of us are bold enough to withstand a beating.”

There was another silence. Theo let out a shaky breath and reached his hand over to Pansy. She took it, closing her eyes and calming herself. 

“How the hell does she manage it?” asked Pansy eventually, looking down at Kit. “How can she deal with the abuse and not crack?”

“She’s strong,” said Draco quietly, though his voice was gruff. “She’s had it worse for longer. Most of you learned to keep your mouths shut after the second major beating. Her parents never stopped beating her, no matter what, and she’s not one to stay quiet.”

Pansy sniffled. “It’s only going to get worse for her. I see that mark my father left on me every bloody day and it reminds me not to speak up. She… she’s got a thousand more marks and she doesn’t learn.” There was a brief faraway look in her eyes. Draco didn’t know what mark she as referring to but Theo seemed to know. 

The Slytherin girl then shook her head quickly. “What… what did she mean when she mentioned that the… man from last year attacked her?”

Draco hesitated, and Blaise answered for him. “The man threatened her. I don’t know enough of the details but he was harassing her.”

“He was asking for information about her parents,” said Draco slowly. “And he was being really abusive to make sure no one found out about him being an impostor, because he knew she was on the brink of figuring it out. He made her feel that Diggory’s death was her fault. Her parents didn’t help.”

Pansy looked sick to her stomach. She looked at Kit, then away. She seemed to be shivering. Draco had never seen Pansy looking so vulnerable. She then abruptly stood up. “I’m sorry— I can’t do this. I can’t stay here. When she wakes, don’t you dare tell her I was here. I don’t want her to know.”

She left, and Theo soon followed behind.

“What was that about?” asked Blaise. 

“I don’t know,” mumbled Draco. “I’ve never even seen Pansy like that. But clearly she was worried about Kit because of what happened. I have a feeling that there’s something they have in common.”

“You don’t think fake Moody—?”

“To Pansy? No, not him… but maybe her father—”

Kit suddenly stirred, and they stopped talking. She turned toward them, and slowly opened her eyes. She didn’t seem to have heard anything. “Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Draco asked immediately. 

“Drowsy,” she sighed. “But I’ll be fine. Thanks for bringing me here.”

“Of course. Anything you need?”

“Nothing for now… I just need to rest a bit more. Please.”

The boys were silent as she curled up again, letting out a shaky sigh. 

**___ **

The following day was downright rotten for Kit. 

Charms and Transfiguration weren’t too bad, but it didn’t help that her Ravenclaw friends were continuously badgering her for what happened with Umbridge.

“I wish I was there!” said Su dreamily. “I would have loved to see you put that old toad in her place!”

Flitwick wasn’t too pleased hearing that, but he’d gently reminded Kit that she needed to hold her tongue if she expected to keep her position as Prefect.

“You may doubt my decision to appoint you,” squeaked the tiny Professor, “but be certain that you are the candidate I had precisely in mind. I know you can’t help but stand up to injustices but she can get you in tremendous trouble.”

Kit had agreed with him and said she’d try her best, but internally, all she could think of was ‘No promises.’

In Transfiguration, some of the Hufflepuffs had even started questioning her about what happened, which resulted in McGonagall asking her to stay at the end of class.

“Miss Thompson,” she said very seriously. “I will tell you the same thing I told Mr. Potter. You need to be careful. This isn’t just about whether things are true or not. Tread carefully and keep your temper under control. I wouldn’t like for her to punish either of you further. If you don’t try harder, next, she’ll take you both of your respective Quidditch teams, which I can assure you will be a grave loss for both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.”

McGonagall’s words certainly rung more in Kit’s head throughout the day. 

She hardly paid attention to the Care of Magical Creatures lesson. Blaise did the entirety of their work with bowtruckles, and when Kit bade him farewell to attend Herbology with the Gryffindors, she let out a loud, irritated sigh.

“Tell me about it,” huffed Harry. “I’m not looking forward to detention every night this week.”

“Me neither. Hopefully she doesn’t make us do too much… I’m used to cleaning Snape’s classroom but she’s probably more creative.”

The door of the greenhouse opened right as they walked up to it, and some fourth years trailed out. Ginny Weasley stepped out, smiling brightly at them. “Hi!” Behind her was Luna, her hair knotted up and some dirt on her nose. Ginny seemed to be about to say something when Luna moved forward, her eyes wide as she looked at Harry. “I believe He Who Must Not Be Named is back and I believe you fought him and escaped from him,” she said. 

“Er— right,” said Harry awkwardly. Kit beamed at Luna, but frowned when she heard the giggling behind them. Apparently, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were laughing at the earrings Luna was wearing, which resembled orange radishes.

“You can laugh,” Luna said, clearly thinking they were laughing at her statement and not her attire. “But people used to believe there were no such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple‐Horned Snorkack!”

“Well, they were right, werenʹt they?” said Hermione impatiently. “There werenʹt any such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple‐Horned Snorkack.”

“Hermione Granger!” hissed Kit as Luna frowned and left. She then whirled around to the still giggling Parvati and Lavender. “Can you two shut it as well?”

They didn’t seem eager to cross Kit, and closed their mouths promptly, darting into the greenhouse.

Harry looked at Hermione warily. “Dʹyou mind not offending the only people who believe me?”

“Oh, for heavenʹs sake, Harry, you can do better than her,” said Hermione. “Ginnyʹs told me all about her; apparently, sheʹll only believe in things as long as thereʹs no proof at all. Well, I wouldnʹt expect anything else from someone whose father runs The Quibbler.”

“Hermione,” said Kit hotly. “In case you haven’t noticed, Ginny knows her better than you and _she’s_ not making fun of her all the time. Maybe there’s no proof that such things exist, but there also isn’t any concrete evidence that says they _don’t_ exist.”

Hermione stopped, her cheeks turning pink. It was this sort of thing that had kept Hermione and Kit from becoming friends initially. Where Kit was abrasive and extremely open minded, Hermione was much more composed but unfortunately narrow in her thoughts.

Neither girl had a chance to speak, however, because Ernie Macmillan came up. In Transfiguration, Kit had caught him staring at her, but she hadn’t said anything. 

“I want you to know, Potter,” he said in a loud, carrying voice, “that itʹs not only weirdos who support you. I personally believe you one hundred percent. My family have always stood firm behind Dumbledore, and so do I.”

“Er— thanks very much, Ernie,” said Harry, taken aback.

“Yes, thank you for being supportive, Ernie,” said Kit, still too annoyed at Hermione to be considered calm. “But would you mind not referring to my Housemate as a weirdo?”

Ernie stopped, his ears reddening. “Oh— Kit— I’m sorry.” He shifted his weight and tucked his hands behind his back. Kit ignored him and went to stand near Ron, Hermione, and Harry for the rest of the class, though she didn’t speak up at all. 

As soon as the class ended, Harry and Kit strode quickly to the Great Hall to get in a meal before their detention. They were at the entrance hall when a loud and angry voice yelled, “Oi, Potter!”

“What now?” he muttered wearily, turning to face Angelina Johnson

“Iʹll tell you what now,” she said, marching straight up to him and poking him hard in the chest with her finger. “How come youʹve landed yourself in detention for five oʹclock on Friday?”

“What?” said Harry. “Why... oh yeah, Keeper tryouts!”

“Now he remembers!” snarled Angelina. “Didnʹt I tell you I wanted to do a tryout with the whole team, and find someone who fitted in with everyone! Didnʹt I tell you Iʹd booked the Quidditch pitch specially? And now youʹve decided youʹre not going to be there!”

“I didnʹt decide not to be there!” said Harry, looking at Kit in disbelief at Angelina’s words. “I got detention from that Umbridge woman, just because I told her the truth about You‐Know‐Who.”

“Well, you can just go straight to her and ask her to let you off on Friday,” said Angelina fiercely, “and I donʹt care how you do it. Tell her You‐Know‐Whoʹs a figment of your imagination if you like, just make sure you’re there!”

As soon as she stormed away, Harry gave Kit a defeated look. “I think I’d better check with Puddlemere United whether Oliver Woodʹs been killed during a training session, because Angelina seems to be channelling his spirit.”

Kit snorted awkwardly. “Yikes… I wonder how Roger is going to react, he wanted us all to try out all over again. I should go talk to him now. See you soon?”

“Sure,” sighed Harry, heading to the Gryffindor table.

Kit scrambled over to where the seventh years were, and careened to a stop where Roger was. “Hey, I wanted to—”

“I heard,” he sighed, looking up. “Flitwick told us last period.”

Kit looked sheepishly away as Norman Chambers and Orion Bradley looked up at her. “You really did a number on that woman, didn’t you?” asked Norman. “We heard it was terrible, what you and Potter did. Mad respect, though.”

“Terrible in the sense that Umbridge actually got told off properly,” said Orion quickly before Kit could answer. “She deserved it. Was raving to us about how when we graduate, we’ll be unprepared because we’ve never learned anything right. I asked her how she could say that when all of us got an O on the Defense O.W.L. in our fifth year, and she told me to mind my tongue.”

“Oh,” said Kit, her cheeks pink. “Well, I have to try not to do that again.”

“Please do,” implored Roger. “I’ll let you off this time but if you make detentions a habit with her, I’ll have to consider cutting you from the team. At least Snape gave you detentions when nothing important was happening.”

Kit nodded thankfully. “Roger, you’re the best, I promise I’ll show you that I still deserve to be on the team.”

Roger waved his arm dismissively. “You don’t need to, the three of you have secured spots already, I haven’t heard many students eager to try out.”

“You’re both still playing, then?” asked Kit, looking down at Norman and Orion.

“Yeah, might as well finish up,” said Norman with a shrug. “Now go eat before it gets too late.”

Kit thanked Roger one last time before going to her spot and practically devouring the food that appeared on her plate. At five to five, she set out, and was met by Harry in the hallway. They didn’t speak as they made their way to the third floor.

“Come in,” said Umbridge in a sugary voice when Harry knocked on the door. 

When he opened the door, Kit nearly passed out. She hadn’t been in this office many times but she hated how it looked at the current moment. Lacy covers and cloths were everywhere, along with vases of dried flowers and ornamental plates. There were kitten designs everywhere. 

_Please don’t tell me we have to clean every last cup,_ thought Kit.

“Good evening, Mr. Potter and Miss Thompson,” said Umbridge.

“Evening, Professor Umbridge,” Kit and Harry said stiffly. 

“Well, sit down,” she said, pointing towards two small tables draped in lace beside which she had drawn up two straight‐backed chairs. A piece of blank parchment lay on each table.

“Er,” said Harry, without moving. “Professor Umbridge. Er— before we start, I— I wanted to ask you a... a favour.” Umbridge narrowed her eyes. “Oh, yes?”

“Well, Iʹm... Iʹm in the Gryffindor Quidditch team. And I was supposed to be at the tryouts for the new Keeper at five oʹclock on Friday and I was— was wondering whether I could skip detention that night and do it— do it another night... instead...ʹ

Kit and Harry both knew what her answer would be. 

“Oh, no,” said Umbridge, smiling evilly. “Oh, no, no, no. This is your punishment for spreading evil, nasty, attention‐seeking stories, Mr. Potter, and punishments certainly cannot be adjusted to suit the guilty oneʹs convenience. No, you will come here at five oʹclock tomorrow, and the next day, and on Friday too, and you will do your detentions as planned. I think it is rather a good thing that you are missing something you really want to do. It ought to reinforce the lesson I am trying to teach you.”

Kit gritted her teeth and went to sit, Harry following her lead. Umbridge glared directly at her for a minute. “Now, Miss Thompson, before we begin, I’ll do you the courtesy of letting you know that I just finished sending your father a letter about half an hour ago. I took my time outlining your behavior to him.”

The brunette stiffened, but nodded slowly. “There, that’s settled,” said Umbridge. “Both of you seem to be doing better with your tempers already. Now, both of you are going to be doing some lines for me with some special quills of mine. Here.” She gave them each a long, thin black quill with a very sharp point.

“Mr. Potter,” said Umbridge, “I would like you to write, ‘I must not tell lies.’ Miss Thompson, please write, ‘I must hold my tongue.’”

Kit gave her a sickly smile. “Alright. How many times?”

“Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in,” said Umbridge sweetly. “Off you go.”

“Professor, you haven’t given us any ink,” noted Harry.

“Oh, you wonʹt need ink,” said Professor Umbridge.

Confused, Harry and Kit shared a look before writing their respective sentences on the parchment.

The stinging that came after was a bitch, like Umbridge. 

Harry let out a gasp of pain, and Kit flinched, too used to pain to let out an initial noise. She relaxed her hand, thinking it was a spasm, until on the back of it, the words ‘I must hold my tongue’ appeared. On the parchment, the same sentence was there, but in what appeared to be red ink.

Pure evil. She gritted her teeth as the cut healed itself, leaving the back of her hand just looking redder, but unmarked.

“I wonder,” said Kit out loud, looking up at Umbridge, only to catch her smiling cruelly at them. “Does Fudge know you have these?”

Umbridge leaned forward, smirking malevolently. “Well, my dear… if your father does his part… Fudge will never have to know.”

A chill went up her spine. _Mind control_. It was the only thing Kit could think of. Her father was going to do something— mind control someone or many someones to make sure that even if they told, nothing could be done about it. 

Angry beyond belief, but biting her tongue to hold back from shouting, Kit began to write again. And again. And again. Harry was staring at her strangely, as he himself was not about to pick up the pace. Kit no longer cared. I must hold my tongue. I must hold my tongue. She kept writing, in the same way, over and over again down the parchment. She didn’t gasp. Didn’t wince. Didn’t shriek. She was too mad to focus on the pain and what good would it do her anyway? Besides, the Cruciatus Curse had been a thousand times worse than this. This pain, she was used to. This pain would pass. She didn’t focus on the now. She focused on the future, and the day she’d get to force Umbridge to write some lines of her own. I must not be a foul bitch. I must not abuse my students. The sadistic side of Kit was coming out as she fantasized about all the ways she could give Dolores Umbridge a taste of her own medicine. One day, she would do it. One day. Perhaps not anytime this week, but Kit was most certainly going to find a way. 

After what felt like hours, she beckoned them both to come forth. With a deadly sort of calmness, Kit stood and handed her the parchment at the quill, before showing her her hand. The words were not there but the skin where they should be was red raw and it stung like a motherfucker. In trying to distract herself, Kit thought that perhaps she could technically say her hand stung like an Oedipus, but she stopped herself. She wasn’t about to laugh in Umbridge’s face again. 

“Tut, tut,” said Umbridge with the same wicked grin as before. “I don’t seem to have made much of an impression yet. Well, we’ll have to try again tomorrow evening, won’t we? You may both go.”

They didn’t hesitate to leave. When they were far enough away from her office, Harry let out a frustrated snarl. “It’s surely past midnight!” he hissed. “This place is completely deserted! I’m not going to be able to get any of our thousand essays done!”

“Me neither,” said Kit, her steps hard as she imagined crushing Umbridge’s face with them. She then paused and looked at him. “Are you… going to tell anyone?”

Harry winced. “I don’t know, Kit.”

“With the thing she mentioned about my father… I fear if we say something it will amount to nothing. But after what happened with Barty Crouch Jr., the last thing I want to do is stay quiet.”

“If it’s alright with you, can I leave it to you to decide if we speak up or not?” asked Harry quietly. “I think you’ll make a better choice.”

“Yeah, of course. Take time to finish your assignments or sleep. I’ll let you know what I think we should do,” she said, patting his back. He sent her a grateful nod and darted off.

Kit began to walk back to her Common Room, sighing quietly. She didn’t think she was on duty tonight. Probably not until Friday. At least that was a relief.

Once she arrived to her bed, neglecting everything she was going to have to struggle to finish the next day, she let out a shaky breath.

What should they do? Should they tell? Should they stay quiet? Umbridge was no Barty Crouch Jr., but that didn’t mean she wasn’t worse in another way.

Funnily enough, that’s what helped her make her decision. The others had let her know who formed part of the Order, and she knew that if anything, the Order should know. But not just anyone— not either Weasley parent. Lupin and Sirius would revolt. Snape and Dumbledore she could talk to in person but she trusted neither of them. The other option… well, although he scared her, he was the only one she thought she could truly trust to be unbiased about their situation and the only one who would actually know what to do. Besides, he was probably the only one who would be able to decipher a letter if she encoded it...

Thus, she got out of bed, snatched up her Runes textbook, some parchment, and hurried down to the Common Room to find another book that might create a more complex code.

She was going to write to the real Alastor Moody.


	38. Chapter 38

**On Thursday morning, Kit received two letters in the mail.**

The first arrived via a small tawny owl similar to Pigwidgeon that she had never seen before. When the letter dropped on her plate, she saw her mother’s elegant writing on the front— ‘To: Katherine.’

“Oh, joy,” sighed Kit. “From my parents. I guess I better go read this before class.” She stood, ready to go get some privacy, before another owl— a barn owl, dropped yet another envelope on her plate. This time, the front said ‘Kit Smith.’

“Kit Smith?” inquired Su when she saw it. “That’s not your name.”

“Smith is my mother’s maiden name,” said Kit, knowing who this was from. Alastor Moody. He knew her mother, and he knew she preferred to be called Kit. She felt touched that he had refrained from referring to her as ‘Thompson’ this time, since she despised that name.

She scooped up the other envelope and hurried out, darting down into an empty corridor before sitting down and opening the one from her parents first.

_“Katherine,_

_It displeases me to hear from such an esteemed member of the Ministry that you have been misbehaving yet again. Honestly, I’m not sure if you understand the embarrassment your mother and I go through when we read such letters. It is pitiful that after fifteen years, you are still as defiant and absurd as always.”_

Kit rolled her eyes. Her father was a bloody, sadistic, and malicious imbecile. 

Last night, detention with Umbridge had been just as bad as the first night. And yet, Harry and Kit hadn’t shown signs of weakness. They had written diligently, and not spoken unless they were telling her ‘good evening’ and ‘good night.’ Her hand burned and she’d made easy work of hiding it. When they were done on, Kit had told Harry about owling Moody, which he thought had been a good choice on her part. The very faded sentence appeared on both their hands now, but it would have taken prior knowledge and a lot of squinting for someone to notice it on the first look. For now, both were keeping it hidden. 

_“Dolores Umbridge is at your school to correct the stupidities that Dumbledore has allowed to be enforced. Make no mistake— she is the main one in charge and we expect you to show her the utmost respect. Unfortunately, your childish brain has yet to comprehend how to behave yourself.”_

Kit supposed she had made a good choice in telling Moody and not Dumbledore. What would the old bat have done anyway? According to Harry, Dumbledore was ignoring him to begin with.

_“That being said, I request you come home for the holidays. If you do not, I will make sure you face a greater punishment come the end of summer term. For now, I have no concrete way of ensuring your compliant behavior. However, I do recommend you in fact hold your tongue, or the next letter may include something you will not like.”_

She shivered at the thought. Was that a subtle threat that he’d cut out someone’s tongue and send it to her? She hoped that it wasn’t what he meant, but now, she wasn’t sure...

_“Additionally, I will note that your mother is quite in agreement with me. I am no idiot, Katherine, and I know exactly what you think you saw. I advise you forget it and speak of it to no one. If I find out that anyone is aware of your little suspicion, an even worse package will be delivered. Mind you, I am quite good at not being caught, and I’m certain that you do not wish me to kill her.”_

Her blood ran cold. A vivid, vivid threat. And she’d already told Moody and Lupin about her suspicion. Her hands shook as she looked at the last bit of the letter.

_“Going off of that last point… a charm has been placed on this letter. Should you show it to anyone, they will see a rather lovely note from your mother, rather than what you have just read. Do not test me, Katherine. You won’t like what you get.”_

Letting out an angry huff, she tore the letter apart, before letting out a cry of pain and dropping it. On the floor before her, the shredded pieces of parchment were quite literally melting into a brownish red puddle of sap. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it had burned her fingers. Soon, the parchment had disappeared, and the pile of sap began to fade into the floor.

“Damn it,” she hissed, stomping her foot as she got up. “Damn it— fuck!” She shoved the envelope into her bag before ripping open the one Moody had sent. She glanced down at the letter, which was quite brief. He had used the same code she had sent, but once she translated, she made quick note of his plans for future correspondence.

_“Kit,_

_Good idea owling me. All noted. Stay out of trouble. Mark down what she says and does. Let me know. Don’t use the same variation of code twice._

_Alastor.”_

She hadn’t been expecting much, therefore she just let out a sigh. So far, no instructions to do anything, but she felt good knowing that at the very least, someone outside Hogwarts was aware of what was going on. Now, she would just need to find more coding books, and mix and match things around. 

The rest of the day was fairly shitty. Between classes and struggling to finish everything, it was uneventful until that evening when, for the third time, Harry and Kit sat through detention. 

By the time it was over, the phrases ‘I must not tell lies’ and ‘I must hold my tongue’ were vivid red on both Harry and Kit’s hands— the skin around almost as red as the blood on the parchment. Kit had had many scars in the past but this was her new least favorite one. 

“Ah,” said Umbridge softly as she examined Harry’s hand. Kit’s was a bit worse off because she was writing with such fury, but it seemed Harry’s was what Umbridge cared about most. “Good. That ought to serve as a reminder to both of you, oughtn’t it? You may both leave for tonight.”

“Do I still have to come back tomorrow?” said Harry without emotion. 

“Oh yes,” said Professor Umbridge. “Yes, I think we can etch the message a little deeper with another eveningʹs work.”

They left right after that, and this time, Kit decided she was too annoyed to leave Harry. “So, Moody just said to document what happens and stuff. Aside from that, he encourages us to stay out of trouble.”

“Like that’s going to be easy,” muttered Harry. “Seriously, I never thought I’d hate a teacher more than Snape. She’s a foul, twisted— Ron?”

They had turned the corner and nearly walked into Ron, who was clutching his broomstick. When he saw them, he tried to hide his broom behind his back.

“Hi, Ron,” said Kit, raising her eyebrow. “What are you up to?”

“Er— nothing,” said Ron immediately. 

Harry frowned. “Come on, you can tell us!”

“I-I was hiding from Fred and George, if you must know,” said Ron. “They just passed by with a bunch of first years— bet they’re testing stuff again.”

“Testing stuff?” asked Kit.

“Yeah, for their joke products. Hermione isn’t okay with it and they keep having to sneak off to do it.”

“Why do you have your broom?” inquired Harry. “Have you been flying?”

Ron hesitated to answer. “I— well— okay, fine, I’ll tell you both, but don’t laugh, alright?” he said a bit defensively, his face reddening more with every passing second. “I— I thought I’d try out for Gryffindor Keeper now that I have a decent broom. There. Go on. Laugh.”

Kit and Harry shared a look. “Why are we expected to laugh?” Kit asked blankly. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“I think it’s a brilliant idea,” said Harry. “It’d be really cool if you got on the team! I’ve never seen you play Keeper, are you good?”

Ron looked extremely relieved at their reactions. “I’m not bad. Charlie, Fred, and George always made me Keep for them when they were training during the holidays.”

“Were you just practicing?” asked Kit.

“Every evening since Tuesday. On my own, the other nights— I was trying to bewitch Quaffles to fly at me, but it wasn’t easy. Today, though… well, Su offered to practice with me.”

Kit’s eyebrows went up. “Oh wow, so she’s been practicing too, then? She was so insistent she didn’t want to be on the team this year.”

“She doesn’t want to be,” said Ron, looking down almost shyly. “I mentioned it to her when she brought it up and she came to help. She’s not half bad as a Chaser, she just hasn’t trained enough. I bet Fred and George are going to laugh themselves stupid when I turn up for tryouts, though. They havenʹt stopped taking the mickey out of me since I got made a prefect.”

“They’re just jealous— don’t listen to them,” said Kit. “I think you’ll do spectacular.”

“I just wish I was going to be there,” Harry said bitterly, raising his hand to scratch his nose. 

Ron assented. “Yeah, so do— Harry, what’s that on the back of your hand?” Harry dove his hand down to hide it, but Ron grabbed his forearm and brought it level to his eyes. He stared at the words carved into his skin, before lunging out to grab Kit’s arm, and doing the same. With a sick look, he let both of them go.

“You… you both said she was just giving you lines,” he mumbled.

“Well, technically that wasn’t a lie,” grumbled Kit as Harry tried to calmly explain everything to Ron.

“The old hag!” Ron said in a revolted whisper. “Sheʹs sick! Go to McGonagall, say something!”

“I owled Moody already,” said Kit. “We agreed that right now that’s the best course of action. As Harry noted… my father is in on it. There won’t be much to do. For now we have to just let her do her evil and just try to encourage everyone to not get on her bad side. Dumbledore won’t have power over her either, so there probably isn’t another way to go about this.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, he’s got enough on his mind…” Kit and Ron both winced. 

“I’m going to go to sleep,” said Kit, patting both their shoulders once they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. “Take care.”

“Sleep well, Kit,” said Ron, looking sadly at her hand.

She turned and left, sighing to herself. She felt like she was doing that a lot, lately. 

Sometimes, she couldn’t help but feel utterly defeated. 

**_**

The only thing that kept Kit going on Friday was the fact that she’d get to meet the new members of her Quidditch team soon, and that she’d have her first night of patrol as a prefect— thankfully with Draco. Kit wasn’t sure how that’d coincidentally happened, but she wasn’t about to complain. 

At five o’clock, she and Harry took their usual route to Umbridge’s office. 

“Last night of this bullshit,” sighed Kit. “Hopefully for awhile. I promise to do my best to behave if you promise the same.”

“I promise too,” said Harry. “But just know that if you snap and start going off on her, I’m inevitably going to join you.”

“Well fuck, same here. If you go off on her, there’s no way I’ll be able to hold back. Draco would have to tape my mouth shut.”

“Are you and Malfoy… a thing yet?”

“Um, no, just friends for now.”

“But you fancy him.”

“Yes, I fancy him,” said Kit a bit shyly. She never would have thought she’d be telling that to Harry in such a straightforward manner. 

Harry shrugged. “Well, he hasn’t said a foul thing to any of us this entire week. I reckon that’s a good start, you know? You really are changing him.”

“I would hope so. But… then again he’s not exactly changing that much. Draco is inherently good. He was just corrupted a lot. I was never one to conform; he got manipulated into it too easily. He knows right and wrong, and it’s helping that he’s motivated to be better.”

Harry gave her a quizzical look. “Did you say you won’t snog him until he’s nice, or something?”

Kit turned beet red. “Harry James Potter! I did no such thing!”

Harry offered her a small smirk. “I was just wondering. No harm in asking.”

“Well, let’s turn this on you, then. Who do you want to snog?”

“Can I decline to answer?”

“Oh, come on, I already know it’s Cho.”

Harry’s silence was an indicator that she was right.

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” said Harry bluntly. “I don’t know how it will work.”

“Eh, it kind of just happens. I hardly count myself as experienced. Kissing Roger on a dare was just that— a dare. Aside from that, I’d probably tense up and not know what to do.”

“You’d probably know better than me. I’d probably look like a fish.”

They both smirked at that, but became serious once Kit knocked on the door. When they entered, they took their usual spots, though Harry seemed to shift closer to the window, where Gryffindor was currently holding Keeper tryouts. Kit knew that once they finished, late into the night, Ravenclaw would do the same, but they’d be stuck in there until both Houses were done. 

_“I must hold my tongue.”_

Blood simmered over the words as Kit began to write, her face expressionless as usual. She was still angry enough to write harder than she needed to, and it was making it hurt a hell of a lot more, but she wasn’t about to give in. She could withstand this.

_“I must hold my tongue.”_

Her skin was peeling near where the edges of the letters were. Blood pooled around the crevices, and soon, a trail of it flowed down between her ring and middle finger, dripping over the paper and smudging one of her sentences. 

_“I must hold my tongue.”_

How she wished it were as easy to drill into her head. She couldn’t do that so simply. She would have to force herself to be quiet. Again, again, again, until the parchment was completely full. By then the sky outside was pitch black, and Kit could no longer hear distant voices. It was definitely past ten o’clock— that was when Roger had said the tryouts would end. 

“Let’s see if you’ve got the message yet, shall we?” said Umbridge at long last. 

Rather than them standing to show her, she got up this time. She went to Harry first, taking his hand. Harry flinched and wretched his arm out of her grip, leaping to his feet. Kit wasn’t sure why he looked so panicked.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Umbridge said softly. “I think I have made my point, Mr. Potter. You may go. Your turn, Miss Thompson.”

Harry bolted out, and Kit was left alone with Umbridge, who simply smiled sweetly at her. She took her hand, examining it. Kit refrained from drawing it away, despite the fact it stung. “You received your father’s letter, yes?” whispered Umbridge.

“Yes,” said Kit angrily.

“I’m sure you understand that you need to be a better student from now on?”

“Yes,” she repeated, gritting her teeth.

“I hope you are wise enough to listen to your father,” Umbridge said, looking down at her wickedly. “Kenneth Thompson is not a man that many would dare cross. I expect… you know that.”

“I expect you know that as well,” said Kit savagely, forgetting her promise to not lash out. “I’m sure he tells you about every time he’s tortured me, hmm?”

Umbridge let out the smallest and evilest of giggles. “No, he does not, but we all know what Kenneth is capable of. How’s your mother, by the way?”

It took everything in Kit not to launch herself at her and tackle to the floor, pummel her with her bloody fist. The sadistic gaze Umbridge shot her was enough to let Kit know that Umbridge _knew_. She knew just what she was talking about.

Kit forced a wry smile. “She’s fine, thank you. May I leave now?”

“Yes. Mind your tongue, Katherine. It can get you into the wrong sorts of trouble.”

Kit did not respond. She scooped up her bag and darted out, finding Harry waiting nearby.

“What happened?” she asked him immediately. 

“When she touched me, my scar hurt,” he blurted out. 

Kit’s eyes widened in concern. “Shit… make sure you tell Hermione and Ron when you can. And please… let me know how his tryout went. I have to go patrol soon.”

“Of course. See you, Kit.”

She nodded at him before darting to her Common Room, dropping her bag off on her bed and quickly wrapping a cloth around her hand before grasping her wand and going back out into the corridors. She could hear some cheers from the boys’ dormitories, but she didn’t question anything yet. She supposed she’d find out the tryout results tomorrow.

It was boring at first, just her by herself, listening to her breathing and checking to see if anyone was hiding behind the statues. They were not. She was glad for it, because the last thing she wanted at the moment was to deal with some straggler.

Soon, however, she and Draco found each other.

“Hey,” he said, looking up happily at her. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” she said, shrugging a bit. She expected him to grin, or something, but he frowned, his eyes now fixated on her wrapped hand.

“What the hell happened to you?” he asked sharply.

Shit.

She hadn’t thought about how she would explain this to Draco. Perhaps Ron had been adamant about them telling McGonagall and he’d certainly been angry that Umbridge was doing such a thing, but when it came to tempers, she knew Draco’s reaction would be far worse.

He seized her hand before she could hide it, and tore the cloth away, exposing the vile words etched into her flesh. His eyes widened, and a low rumble sounded out from his chest. His hands shook with fury as he wrapped her hand again. 

“Umbridge,” he said in a deadly whisper. “She— did she—”

“Yes,” said Kit softly. No point in denying it. “But don’t worry, please, I have it taken care of—”

“Taken care of?” snarled Draco. “That looks bloody terrible— emphasis on the bloody! You— you told Blaise and I that she was just giving you lines! Kit— fucking Merlin— why didn’t you tell me?”

“Do you see how you’re reacting now? That’s exactly why!”

“She’s torturing you, and Potter! And while I could give less shits about him, it’s still diabolical! No— no— I have to write to my father!”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she hissed, catching him by the collar before he could move. “You haven’t even let me explain! _My_ father knows! He’s helping Umbridge fucking cover it up! So we’re screwed! I’m going to handle it, just calm down!”

Draco angrily moved back so that she no longer was holding onto him. “How can you expect me to calm down?” he seethed. “Huh? Am I supposed to pretend I’m okay with the fact that yet another person is hurting you and there’s nothing I can do about it? Seriously, Kit Kat, I’d have thought that you’d learned by now that I care too bloody much about you to just sit this one out!”

“Well, you need to! Please, Draco, the answer isn’t to get all confrontational! I’ll try to not get detention, I’ll bide my time, just trust me! I don’t want her to hurt anyone else, especially not you, Blaise, or Su, who that vile bat will come after next because none of you will stand down once you’re too heated! She’s a monster but we need to be more thoughtful about how we fix this!”

Draco growled and slammed his fist into the wall, letting out a hiss of pain as his knuckles split open. “Idiot,” hissed Kit, bringing out a spare cloth and beginning to wrap his hand. “And you wonder why I didn’t want to tell you. Punching walls…”

“Well I’m sorry that I lash out!” He said, reluctantly letting her stop the flow of blood. “It was either punch the wall or go hurt someone else or Merlin forbid— hurt you. I can’t control myself, Kit, I know that, so maybe you’re right, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling useless and furious at the same time!”

Kit let out a shaky sigh as she tucked the last piece of cloth in. “Breathe. Can you try to do that for me?”

He inhaled harshly, his nostrils flaring. He looked down at her, his blue eyes churning with anger. She took both of his hands and squeezed them slightly, to not hurt either of them. He managed to steady his breathing, focusing on just her face.

Once she felt he wasn’t about to fly into a blind rage, Kit let go of his hands. “Do you feel better now?” she asked a bit timidly.

“No, I don’t, but at least I’m not about to go commit murder,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Well, that’s an improvement. Please, just let me handle this. Me and Harry for now.”

“Don’t bring up Potter right now, please, my focus is just you. You’re just going to make me jealous and I’m already fuming.” He then stopped. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. It’s not your fault. I’m just— not happy. I shouldn’t control what you say. It’s not your fault… Kit Kat.”

Kit reached her good hand up slowly, brushing some hair out of his face, and tracing it down the side of his face. “I’m here to help you, Draco, just as I know you’ll help me. We will figure this out. I appreciate how much you care. Really, I do. It’s touching.”

Draco leaned into her touch, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he seemed more determined. Kit hoped that it didn’t meant he’d already planned a murder, but as it turned out, that was not the case. He raised his hands and cupped her cheeks, tilting her head up to look at him. Kit felt her heart beating faster when she realized what he was planning.

Rather than wait, she put her hand on the back of his neck, holding herself steady as she tiptoed up, pressing her lips against his. He tensed, his hands tightening a bit around her cheeks, his thumbs under her jaw, tilting her head to the side as he returned the gesture, letting out a soft groan as he rolled his body into hers, making the distance between them nonexistent. 

Kit didn’t want to pull away. Draco didn’t want to pull away. But somehow, both decided that they needed to, and like a single unit, moved back from each other. Kit’s eyes were still closed when Draco opened his. Her lips were trembling again, and he didn’t wait for her to speak before he pushed her back against the nearest wall and collided their mouths together again, one of his hands around her throat and the other flying to grip her waist. This time, it was Kit who made a noise, both of her hands moving to grip his shirt as he kissed her again.

It felt perfect. Draco thought that this was a prime example of the best first kiss ever. It was like a switch inside him flipped and he knew what to do. He moved his mouth steadily against hers, disconnecting their lips for the briefest of moments before changing to a new angle, again and again. He could feel Kit shaking beneath him, her hands clumsily moving up to rake through his hair. It was gentle but needy, slow and precise, both of them experimenting and holding each other close as they finally got the chance to do what they’d been wanting to do for ages.

Draco wished it could have continued forever. But alas, there was a point where both realized that they needed to stop, and reluctantly, pulled away once more.

Kit’s eyes were shining as she looked up at him. “That… was really nice,” she said softly, her voice quivering. 

“It was,” he agreed, licking his lips a bit. “We should definitely do that again. Several times.”

Kit let out a soft laugh and put her face in his chest, her hands coming back down to wrap around his middle. “I fancy you, Draco,” she mumbled. “I do. I just… I don’t know.”

“We’re not ready,” he agreed. “Kissing… snogging… fancying each other… it’s so different to be in an actual relationship, I know that. I understand we need to wait. But…” he tilted her head back up to face him. “I will be ready, eventually. I want to be ready. This— this arranged marriage isn’t a curse for me, anymore, Kit Kat. And if you’ll accept me once I’m a better man, then… I’ll gladly be yours, Kit.”

“Deal,” she breathed. “And as awesome as this was… I don’t know if we should do it again if we’re going to wait.”

Draco nodded. “I agree…” he said slowly. 

That didn’t stop them from crashing their lips together one more time.


	39. Chapter 39

**The Prefect’s bathroom quickly became Kit’s favorite place.**

She hadn’t been inside last year when Harry had been cracking the egg code, and she hardly wanted to remember that night after what the fake Moody had done. However, now that she was actually a prefect, she found it to be quite calming.

The first time she had gone it had been the afternoon following her and Draco’s first kiss. The snog hadn’t lasted as long as she wanted to, but it had been nice for a few minutes. They’d both leapt apart when they’d heard footsteps, and it turned out Filch and Mrs. Norris were on their way toward them. With their shiny Prefect badges, they no longer had to worry about being in trouble, but knowing Filch, he might have told Flitwick and Snape if he had caught Draco kissing her neck, as he had been, just moments before…

Kit snapped her head out of the memory. It was Sunday night, and she was about to go for another nice bath.

Saturday had been a calm day. After her bath, she had gone to the Quidditch pitch and met the new members of her team. Roger Davies had announced the lineup: he, Kit, and Orion Bradley would be the main chasers, since Norman still wanted to be part of the team but preferred to play less, which would give Orion a chance at bettering himself. Cho would be the Seeker for another year. Eddie Carmichael, Cho’s sixth year friend, had been chosen to play Keeper, as no one else had wanted to try out. As Beaters, Michael Corner and Kevin Entwhistle, who had been wanting to try out together.

Roger had been quite pleased with the lineup, therefore, so was Kit. They’d had a fairly calm practice for the new team members to learn dynamics, warmup and cool down routines, as well as a few essential plays. 

“That felt nice,” sighed Cho, smiling at Kit as they went to the changing room.

“It did,” agreed Kit. “I think we’ll be nice and ready for the season to start. I wish Su had tried out, it bums me out she didn’t.”

Cho shrugged as she wiggled off her uniform. “I asked her about it too and she was quite insistent that this wasn’t the year for her. I dunno what she meant by that, she seems to have a lot of time on her hands and she clearly _wants_ to play.”

“The aura is not fitting for her,” said Kit very seriously. “Too many sweaty boys. Next year when you’re Captain, maybe more girls will try out.”

Cho shook her head quickly. “Oh no, I told you, I don’t want to be captain. That goes for you. Maybe that’s what she’s waiting for. She wants to be on the team under your leadership.”

Kit made a face, but didn’t argue. Cho then came a bit closer. “I saw Harry this morning in the Owlery,” she said softly, not wanting anyone else to hear. “We talked. It was… really nice. I haven’t felt this excited in awhile. It was the most normal thing I’ve had in awhile. What you and he did with Umbridge— it was really brave. I’m glad I got the chance to tell you both that to your faces.”

Kit offered her a smile. It was good to see Cho looking more lively. She was glad she trusted her with this. She had always prided herself on being as accepting as she could be, and she knew others weren’t going to be so open to Cho wanting to move on already. Kit didn’t think anyone else should have a say in it. It was Cho’s life. But then again, gossip could spread the wrong way, and Kit understood that to be the reason Cho was being so secretive.

After she changed, she made her way back to her dormitory, and had gone to gather her clothes before going in for a bath. The Prefect’s bathroom had been deserted when she had arrived, which she was thankful for, as she didn’t want anyone to see her. She had cleaned herself up quickly (refraining from using the many bubble nozzles), then gone to get some snacks in the Great Hall. She had seen Harry, and he had told Kit that he’d owled Sirius that morning to let him know about how his scar had hurt. Kit had promised to owl Moody about it too, so that he would have an updated version of their completed detentions. She had been pleased to know that Ron had been chosen as Gryffindor Keeper. 

The rest of her day had been spent catching up on assignments with Su, who seemed suspicious as to why Kit was so behind. Usually, she procrastinated quite a bit and scribbled her essays very last minute, but this must have been more bizarre to Su. Kit, of course, did not tell her about Umbridge’s detentions being so terrible. So far, only Ron and Draco knew (maybe Hermione knew as well? Kit wasn’t sure if Harry told her). When she had been done with her to-do list for that evening, she had gotten another book with yet another code (it seemed more Egyptian, and it was significantly more difficult to decipher), and had written a letter to Moody, going to the Owlery and using a school owl to send it. She would have sent Brutus, but he she didn’t want Lucius or her father to recognize it delivering something.

Sunday had started with more cramming to finish homework. She had briefly seen Hermione in the library, and they’d chatted about the hats that Hermione was making for the house elves. Kit had awkwardly told her that maybe she shouldn’t continue making them, but Hermione had insisted that she needed to because they kept disappearing. Kit supposed there were some arguments she’d never win, much to her dismay. Now that she was feeling more like herself, her temper was flaring like it had before, and it took a lot out of her to not snap at Hermione.

Once she had finished all the crucial assignments, she had gone back to get some clothes and swimming trunks to go bathe again. She wasn’t sure who would be in there, and she wanted to try maybe swimming a few laps before getting down to cleaning. 

As she prepared everything, her mind wandered to Draco. She hadn’t spoken to him since Friday night. They’d seen each other in the Great Hall, but had only exchanged small smiles. With the way they’d had to leap apart that night, it was too much temptation to get any nearer. Kit had liked it too much, and she supposed Draco felt the same. So far, it was like nothing happened, and Kit didn’t mind. They weren’t ready for anything more. Not yet.

She had just been ready to leave when movement caught her eye. Ignoring Padma Patil, Lisa Turpin, and Mandy Brocklehurst, who were chatting very loudly about someone Kit didn’t even know (loud enough so Kit wondered if perhaps they were including her in the conversation), she swept to the window and opened it. The little screech owl deposited a letter in her palm, addressed to _Kit Smith_ again. She dove to her bed, ready to translate the code. 

_“Kit,_

_Snuffles and I will discuss. Try not to get detention again. Goes for you and Potter. Do not trust her, do not get close if you can help it. Stay safe. Next time, more details about whether you’re okay or not. Molly is worried._

_Alastor.”_

Brief as always, but at least Moody and Sirius could try and figure out why Umbridge had made Harry’s scar hurt. Kit was touched that Mrs. Weasley was concerned about her. She supposed Moody must have told her not to owl her, in case it was intercepted.

Once she was satisfied, she tore the letter up as per usual and vanished the pieces. She went to the lavatory and put on her swimsuit, covering herself with her robes. Tucking her towel and her bundle of clothes under her arm, she set off for the Prefect’s bathroom.

The walk there was quiet. She hoped no one would disturb her. Alone time was always significantly nice, especially in such a nice room. She could try the bubbles this time, maybe have fun with them.

But when she arrived, she found that the bathroom was in fact, not empty. Fully dressed but with damp hair, Draco was drying his head near the edge of the pool. 

Kit said nothing at first, but the sound of the door opening had made him turn around. She supposed he had just finished getting dressed.

“Kit,” he said, looking up, a smile already forming on his face.

The same night the kiss had happened, Draco had bolted to his dormitory. He had yanked Blaise off his bed and dragged him away to tell him what had happened. Blaise had been quite happy, and had told Draco he thought it was definitely a good choice to wait, but had teased that he knew the two of them too well— patience was not a blessing either of them was bestowed with.

“Oh, shut up,” Draco had said, trying to pretend that thinking about that hadn’t made him flustered. Kit had been his first kiss and it had been amazing…

Blaise chuckled. “I’m right, Draco, face it. If you two get within five feet of each other, you’re going to snog again. Trust me.”

“Well, we agreed not to. We should wait.”

“I mean, there really isn’t any harm in just having a good snog every now and then, you know. Find an abandoned closet, make sure to cast a silencing charm…”

Draco had covered his face and huffed, making Blaise smirk. “I wouldn’t snog her in a closet,” he said. “That’s mediocre. If I’m going to kiss her I don’t want to feel so confined.”

“More power to you, then. Just make sure the clothes stay on—”

“Zabini!”

“—because you don’t want any little Thompson-Malfoy babies running around—”

“If I break your jaw, you won’t be able to continue that sentence!”

Blaise had held his hands up in surrender, but a very mischievous grin was still on his face. “I’m just saying. Use protection.”

He’d then had to duck, because Draco had tried to tackle him to the ground.

Now, it seemed Blaise was going to be right, as usual.

“Hey, Draco,” Kit breathed, looking at him, wanting nothing more than to drop her stuff and just jump into his arms again. It was insane how addicting he could be.

“How er— how have you been?” he asked, trying to be as casual as possible. Droplets of water from his hair were dripping onto his shirt, leaving damp spots on it. Bummer.

Kit placed her towel and clothes down on one of the benches. “I’ve been stressed, you know, trying to finish the assignments I hadn’t done.”

“How’s your hand?” he asked, nodding down at it.

“Well, as good as can be expected. It doesn’t hurt but writing makes me sore. How’s your hand?”

Draco looked down at his own, where his knuckles had burst after he’d punched a wall out of anger at Umbridge. He felt embarrassed he’d done it. So typical, for him to lose his head and lash out. “It’s fine now. You wrapped it well— it stopped bleeding quickly.”

“That’s good,” said Kit, looking down a bit.

Awkwardness.

Nothing out of the ordinary, considering the fact that they’d been trying to stay away from each other to not succumb to their impulses. It was just so strange. It had been weird before but this was another level of it. How could a person cope normally after such a heated snog session with their childhood best friend? Kit wasn’t sure if anyone else had even experienced that exact thing, therefore she had no one to ask for advice.

Draco felt giddy, to put it simply. Part of his mind was wandering… what if Kit was the only woman he ever kissed? He wouldn’t mind that. His first kiss being his wife. As much as they both still wanted to stop the marriage from being an obligation, it might not be so bad. Hell, he wouldn’t mind many more kisses like that. There had been a brief moment where she had kissed right over his clavicle, and....

“Draco?”

He didn’t realize he’d been staring blankly at her. “I’m sorry. I zoned out. What did you say?”

“I asked if you were done,” she said, concealing her pink cheeks. “I had in mind to bathe.”

“Oh! Oh, yes, of course, sorry, I don’t mean to keep you from that.”

He ducked back to start to pick his things up, folding his old clothes rapidly. But before he could finish, Kit had come closer, and brushed past him quite intentionally. 

That was all it took.

He had reached back and grabbed her arm, pulling her to face him and bringing her into his chest, his head dipping down to capture her mouth with his. She had gasped, and his tongue had made its way between her lips. She let out a soft sigh after that, and his free hand moved to hold the back of her head firmly.

Kit, having been caught off guard, hadn’t done much with her hands at first. But as he kept kissing her, she let them slide up his sides, snaking around his back and grasping around his shoulders. He’d tilted her head, pressing his tongue in with more force. Her hands released him briefly, going back down and sliding around to the front. She’d intended to bring them up his chest to go around his neck, but when they’d slid just over where she could feel the faint outline of his abdominal muscles, he’d let out a growl.

“Don’t put them right there,” he muttered as he pulled away, his fingers coiling into her hair and pulling her head back so that he could let his tongue trace under her jaw. He wasn’t sure how he knew she’d enjoy it, but it pleased him to know that it had made her legs tremble. 

Kit hadn’t been about to listen. Now, she was curious. “W-Why not?” she asked in a sound just above a whisper. Experimentally, she kept her hands where they had been, letting her fingertips graze along the indentations. He was getting more fit, that was for sure—

“You know why,” he grumbled, the vibration of his words flowing off his lips and practically reverberating from her neck down her spine. “Don’t make me pin your hands at your sides.”

Well, that certainly was something she needed to try. Curiosity killed the cat but Kit doubted that she’d die if she disobeyed him. After all, how bad could it be? This was only their second time snogging.

Oh, how wrong she had been.

When she hadn’t moved her hands within ten seconds, Draco had stopped kissing her, and had grasped both her wrists and brought her hands down to rest on either hip. He stepped back just enough to make eye contact, but the height difference made Kit need to tilt her head to an almost painful angle. He didn’t look angry, rather, amused, though the fairly emotionless expression on his face made Kit wonder if he was perhaps aggravated with her.

“You say you don’t want us to kiss,” he murmured, squeezing her wrists a bit harder. “But rather than keeping those boundaries… you egg me on. Tell me. What do you intend to gain?”

Kit usually didn’t mind being put on the spot too much. It aggravated her, sure, but her recovery from the initial shock usually was brief, and she wasn’t too anxious to respond. 

This time, however, it was like she forgot the entire English language.

All she could do was stare up wordlessly. Her lips moved but no sound came out. She gulped, and even that was louder than any noise she had tried to make. Her heart was hammering in her chest, the sound echoing in her ears. Even her breathing sounded all too loud now that she was struggling to come up with an answer for him.

Draco seemed pleased to have left her without words. He dipped down and pressed a hard kiss right where he could feel her carotid artery pulsating in time with her heartbeat. She shivered beneath him, and he moved to the other side. Her jugular was pulsating just as hard, and this time, Kit let out a small whimper.

“Do you promise to listen if I release your hands?” There was a teasing air to his question. He didn’t intend to restrain her, and he certainly didn’t want to hurt her. He enjoyed the feeling of her touching him too much. But he didn’t want her putting her hands in _that_ spot. It made him feel things and it didn’t feel appropriate at all. It made his mind cloud with thoughts that could not be said out loud. He didn’t want to scare her away. And in the off chance she wasn’t scared away, he didn’t want them to do something they’d regret.

Kit nodded immediately, but Draco didn’t let go right away. He allowed his lips to travel a bit around her neck, alternating between soft taps and harder kisses on more sensitive spots. At last, he pulled away and released his hold. 

However, it seemed she was already planning out her own agenda as revenge for having been restrained. She gripped his hands in return, putting them behind his back as she tiptoed to kiss near the base of his neck, where his shirt was unbuttoned. He was easily able to get out of her hold, and planted his hands on her waist, holding her firmly as he arched his neck back for her. She hummed lightly as she made a line of kisses down his clavicle, then the other one. Draco’s chest rumbled as he suppressed a louder noise of pleasure.

“Kit,” he breathed after he felt her nip at his skin. “Get in the water.”

“What?” she pulled back to look up at him. “But—”

“Just get in, don’t ask questions.”

Although confused, she slowly began to undo her robes. He turned around, rummaging through his clothes before extracting the swim trunks he must have been wearing before. Kit respectfully faced away from him and tossed her robe to the side, wading into the water, and sighing a bit as she let her body sink underneath the surface.

By the time she came up and cleared the water from her eyes, she could feel the water rippling behind her, letting her know that Draco had entered the pool. She turned back, seeing him raise his wand and point it at the door. _“Colloportus.”_ She heard the lock click, and she felt her cheeks redden as she set down his wand and came closer to her. 

“Are you going to tell me what that was for?” she asked skeptically, though she seemed excited.

“Well, as an extra warning if anyone tries to come and disturb us,” he answered calmly. He took her hands and pulled her to what was surely the deeper end of the large pool. 

Kit raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you planning on drowning me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’ll be easier for me to pick you up.”

“Pick me up—?”

He didn’t need to answer her question verbally. Once the bottom of the pool had dipped and Kit’s head had begun to submerge as she walked along the tiles, he’d held her waist and pulled her up, holding her easily to his level. 

“May I present to you, the concept of buoyancy,” he said, smirking before pressing his lips against hers once more.

It felt even better with the warmth of the water. Kit let her hands wrap around his neck properly, pressing her body against his and wrapping her legs around his torso, which allowed him to bring one hand up her back. She shivered, feeling him bringing it back around her throat, as he had the other night, which allowed him to hold her in place where he wanted so that he could kiss her properly. Kit never thought she’d enjoy a gesture like that, but there she was. She let out a soft moan, which made Draco take the opportunity to slip his tongue back into her mouth. The way he pressed onto her was driving her insane. She let her hands grip each of his shoulders, letting her nails dig slightly into his skin.

This kiss was better. While Friday night, they had been fairly gentle, learning what the other enjoyed and was comfortable with, this was different. Draco was kissing her more fiercely now. His grip was stronger, not meant to harm her but definitely intending to keep her in place. He knew what he wanted and her willingness to let him take it was the only permission he needed. He was ready to stop at a moment’s notice if she got uncomfortable, but Kit wasn’t about to stop him. She loved how his lips pressed onto hers. She loved how he was gently drawing circles on her lower back with his hand. She loved how he pulled away and released her neck only to replace his hand with his lips. He was making her body shake, her breathing becoming more shallow. She knew that he wanted more, that he was holding back, since he was still learning, and her skin tingled wondering how their next snog would be like.

Kit wasn’t sure how much time passed. How many times they switched between kissing each other to allowing their lips to explore the other’s upper body. Kit had found that he’d enjoyed, so far the most, to be kissed right over where his heart was, going up toward his collarbone. Draco had discovered Kit would let out the nicest noises when he kissed under the edge of her mandible, closer to her ear.

When they came to the consensus that they had to pull away (once both of their fingers were wrinkled enough to make them considered aquatic creatures), they were both blushing immensely, and too flustered to speak.

So they didn’t. The silent agreement seemed to be: _‘let’s do this again sometime.’_

And so they would. 

_Hope this wasn’t sucky. Comment for more :)_


	40. Chapter 40

**Kit was in another world the next day.**

She kept zoning out the entire time she was meant to be awake. Harry had told her that morning that they’d spoken to Sirius, and he sent Kit his greetings. Somewhere, somehow, he’d outlined their conversation, but Kit hardly remembered the contents of it. She vaguely recalled hearing Sirius’s name. The entire time, she’d been daydreaming, her eyes closing to remember the feeling of Draco’s lips against hers…

Then it had gotten worse. At breakfast, the entire student body had been informed that Umbridge was now the ‘Hogwarts High Inquisitor,’ or some bullshit like that, and suddenly, her temper had spiked. It had taken the collective efforts of Su, Mimi, and Isobel to keep Kit from marching up to Umbridge, where she sat looking smug at the staff table. Apparently, the stupid old bat had been given more authority to evaluate Professors.

“She’s just infiltrating the school and dragging the bloody Ministry into this!” sneered Kit lowly. “I swear, murder hadn’t crossed my mind to such an extent before—”

“We’d prefer you don’t kill anyone,” said Su weakly, trying to hold her down and simultaneously stop herself from feeling vengeful. “Don’t need to land in Azkaban.”

“To hell with Azkaban, I can tolerate that with just knowing I bested Umbridge…”

Anthony and Terry had snickered, but Mimi shot them a reproachful look. “We’re not going to condone talk of murder,” she said sternly, taking on a more serious attitude since Isobel and Orla were nearby. “She can get you in some serious trouble, Kit, and it’s not worth the risk.”

Kit supposed that was true, but she was hardly internalizing it. Now, she was just wondering whether it was a good idea to send Mad-Eye Moody a lengthy rant letter outlining how she wished she could subdue the pink toad…

The rest of the day felt completely unreal. She didn’t take notes in History of Magic (as per usual). She kept her head down, closed her eyes, and let her mind wander. Once again, she was in the Prefect’s bathroom, Draco was coming closer, he grabbed her neck and…

Hermione, of course, was the one to shake Kit out of her daydream to urge her to go to the next class. Fucking bummer. Not that Kit minded that Hermione cared enough to help her not be late, but she was having such a nice time reliving that kiss.

Potions brought her into yet another dimension. With Draco beside her, it was ridiculously hard to do anything. They had exchanged small smiles at the beginning of class, and Kit had been daydreaming until a sheet of parchment was slipped in front of her, which startled her so much she nearly flew off her bench.

“Are you alright?” asked Draco, raising an eyebrow once she gathered her wits. “You seem… really out of it.”

Her cheeks flared up and she looked away. “M’fine. What’s— er— what’s this?”

“Oh. Snape’s handing back our moonstone essays.” He held up his parchment to show a nice, shiny black ‘O’ at the top of it. 

Kit peered down at hers, seeing an ‘A.’ “I half-assed this thanks to that cow’s stupid detentions,” she huffed. “But I suppose that’s good considering I wasn’t at full capacity. I know the properties of moonstone well enough, we’ve only used it hundreds of times. You did well.”

A proud look flashed over Draco’s features, but he didn’t seem to want to seem narcissistic, therefore he coughed and tried to appear more serious. “Thank you, Kit Kat,” he said quietly. 

That voice. Soothing. Commanding when he wanted it to be. The way his words had flowed into her ear and created a sweet melody to be replayed when she recalled how he’d held her…

Snape’s voice made her jolt back to the rather unfortunate reality that was a double period of Potions.

“I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your O.W.L,” said Snape. “This should give you a realistic idea of what to expect in the examination.” He reached the front of the class and turned to face them. “The general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week's essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get a ‘D.’”

Several of the Slytherins chortled maliciously at this, but Draco was quiet, examining the comments Snape had left on his essay. Kit did the same, seeing that Snape had, as usual, not held back when it came to negative comments. 

At least the lesson was not so bad, but Kit kept zoning out while waiting to stir. She had applied Draco’s stirring advice from before as she made her Strengthening Solution, having carefully followed all other instructions. But whenever there was a point where she wasn’t stirring or adding ingredients, she found herself closing her eyes and just thinking…

By the end of the lesson, both Kit’s and Draco’s potions were the indicated clear turquoise shade. Together, they filled flasks and delivered them to Snape’s desk. 

“Say, Kit Kat,” started Draco once they returned to their seats to put their materials away in their bags. “Would you like to have lunch, maybe? So we can… talk.”

Kit had to do a double take on the statement at first. “Er— sure. But at which table? Do you want me to go to Slytherin?”

“I was thinking outside, actually, just so we can talk without being overheard.”

 _Was it going to be one of those conversations?_ “Alright,” said Kit. “Let’s go. I’m not that hungry, to be honest, so I’ll just pluck a roll off of Blaise’s plate or something.”

“Sounds good.” They walked out of the classroom, and Draco remained walking right beside Kit, whose face was heating up significantly more. Their hands brushed together, and Kit debated grasping it, but she didn’t know if Draco would want to. It seemed his movement had been intentional, however, because he intertwined their fingers, allowing his thumb to graze over the back of her hand. 

Kit recalled that when they were children and had to hold hands to not get separated at big events, his hands had been unbelievably smooth. She had never paid attention before, but with heightened senses from continuously entering her imagination reality, she realized that his hands had become more calloused over the years from handling brooms and training. She knew Draco did more physical work than most Quidditch players, and he worked on his reflexes often. Her mind drifted back to the scene of him in just swimming trunks, his strong arms and abdomen...

“You’re going to get yourself hurt like that.”

Kit looked up a bit wildly, furrowing her eyebrows. “What? What did I do?”

“Oh, nothing. But I’m not blind, Kit Kat. You’ve been zoning out this entire time. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Perhaps she answered that a bit too quickly. Draco looked down, a playful smirk on his face. “Nothing, eh?” he inquired. “Nothing,” she confirmed quickly, trying not to let her imagination get the best of her anymore. 

“It’s not a bad thing,” noted Draco. “I can’t stop thinking about it either.”

Kit shyly kept her gaze down, her tongue darting over her bottom lip. She pulled it in and nibbled on it. Draco noticed this, and nudged her lightly.

“All quiet now?” he whispered, leaning closer to speak directly in her ear. The softness yet assertiveness of his voice was making shivers run down her spine. “You weren’t quiet at all yesterday. In fact, I recall you were… almost challenging me at one point. And the noises you were making when I—”

Kit let out a soft hiss and elbowed him hard in the ribs. “Shut up!” she said, looking around wildly, paranoid someone would hear. When she looked up at Draco, he seemed to be thoroughly amused. That cocky little smirk was making her go crazy. She wondered if he knew how often girls had gossiped about that expression. How often she’d heard them say dirty things because of his abrasiveness, his sarcasm, and his undeniably tantalizing and simultaneously taunting charm. 

“Worried someone will find out?” he said innocently as he pulled her into the Great Hall to get some food. “Might be easier to stop zoning out, you know, your lips move around and it won’t be long before someone as smart as Hermione figures out that you’re imagining kissing someone. And dear Merlin… she’ll know it’s me right away, she’s not stupid…”

“Must you torture me?” she muttered, looking behind her shoulder to where Hermione, Ron, and Harry were already seated at the Gryffindor table. Blaise stood nearby, having a conversation with the Weasley twins. “It’s bad enough I can’t… can’t fucking concentrate.”

“Language, missy,” he said with fake sternness, shoving a roll of bread into her mouth, and winking. He enjoyed watching the blush flooding over her cheeks. It was cute. One second, all the light freckles over her nose and under her eyes were visible, and the next, all he saw was pink. 

He gathered a small plate and pulled at Kit’s hand, dragging her back out to the courtyard. Kit didn’t even bother to remove the roll. She focused on controlling her breathing. Controlling the urge to push him against the wall and kiss him. The urge to pull him back into the Prefect’s bathroom—

“Kit Kat, seriously, at this point, you’re just giving me more material to make fun of you with,” teased Draco as he helped her sit down, because she was far too dazed. Kit just made a face.

How else could one react? How could anyone be so normal in such a situation? She’d only ever snogged him. And it had felt absolutely amazing. As infuriating as he could be, it was bringing her too much excitement. This was what she’d read about in the romance novels she’d explored. This type of passion, want, affection. She knew she wasn’t too young to understand that what she felt for him went far beyond just caring. But how could she word it? 

“Either way,” he continued as he started to eat, “I wanted to have a bit more of a serious conversation.” 

At this, Kit bit properly into the roll and pulled the bigger piece out, munching quickly. “About what? What happened?”

“My mother sent me a letter,” said Draco, setting his plate down and rummaging in his pocket before extracting a piece of parchment. “Here, read it.”

Kit took it carefully, unfolding it and propping it up.

_“Draco,_

_I hope that you are well, my darling. I miss you already. Your father has been at the Ministry far too much, and without you here, I find myself wishing I could pop by and visit Hogwarts. Please send Brutus and another owl with your reply so that I may send you and your friends some cookies._

_Speaking of your father, however, I must ask you to be cautious. I noticed the change in you, this summer, and I find that I am increasingly worried about you. I am beyond sorry that I was unable to stop your father from reprimanding you. I wish Lucius weren’t like that, but you know how he gets. Just know that I am proud of you for taking a stand, for choosing what you believe in and not conforming. If there is anything I regret, it is not doing the same for my sister, your aunt Andromeda. I love your father, Draco, I do, but it is only now that I realize that these weren’t the views I wanted to be engraved into your head since your childhood. I wish I could have raised you with a different mindset. The way your father and I were raised was not something I wanted for you._

_In the moments that your father is home, he seems oddly satisfied with how things are. His mood has improved. Something is afoot. I worry he and your godfather are planning something with that woman that is now your Professor. I overheard them discussing Kit’s detention, and it pains me to hear that her father has allowed that woman to torture any student that lands into trouble with her. Send Kit my regards. I expect you to update me on how things are with her. You are good for each other. When she was born, I remember that even only being a few months older than her, you were always keen on protecting her. Please try and keep her from getting in trouble, and be very cautious that you do not get in trouble either._

_This brings me to my point. Your father mentioned he wants you to be at Dolores Umbridge’s disposal to aid her in whatever she wants. I worry that they’re trying to turn the students against each other somehow, but I don’t have enough details to let you know what they’re plotting. I just worry… and I ask you to keep your eyes peeled. You know I’ll update you with whatever I find out. For now, I hope I can help improve your father’s mood so that he can be more tolerable. He loves you, Draco. He is just… quite stressed with the new agenda._

_Sending lots of love to my beloved baby and angel,_

_Your mother.”_

Kit found herself smiling slightly when she finished reading. How she wished Narcissa could have raised her. She wondered, perhaps, if her mother was like her, just trapped under her father’s influence. 

“Sorry for the cheesiness,” said Draco, turning slightly pink himself. “You know my mother, she’s quite affectionate with words and gestures.”

“It’s cute,” said Kit. “You’re her baby and her angel. I wish I could relate to that with my parents.”

Draco bit his lip and took the parchment as she handed it back. “So… it seems that something is up. I just wanted you to know. Be careful around Umbridge, seriously. The last thing I want is for you to get hurt. And from what I’m deducing in my mother’s warning… my father is going to be asking me to comply with Umbridge. I… I will want to refuse, I will, but…”

“But he might hurt you if you don’t listen,” finished Kit. “Because… even if it goes against your beliefs, your father has expectations that need to be met.”

Draco took her hands in his. “Whatever happens, whatever I am asked to do, I need you to know that I will help you, and be there for you. I worry things are going to get bad… and I don’t want any part in it, but if I’m asked to, I can’t… I can’t deny them my help. He’ll… he’ll come with his cane and just…”

He visibly flinched just thinking about it. Kit squeezed his hands and pulled him closer, before wrapping her arms around him. The cane. The stupid cane Lucius used. He’d beat Draco with it. She hadn’t known about that. She knew what it was like to be afraid of her father. She wished Draco never had to experience that.

“Just keep me in the know,” she said after a long silence, her hand stroking over his hair gently. “I’ll help you. No matter what. I’ll be here, I’m not leaving. We’ll work things out. You’ll do what your father asks so you stay on his good side. I’m not going to abandon you, alright?”

That was what Draco needed to hear. 

In their Defense Against the Dark Arts class later, he tried to adhere to what his mother had told him. He was quiet. Respectful. He opened his textbook as instructed. Kit imitated him, and they both tried to read the assigned chapter. 

However, something was up. Draco, Kit, and several other students noticed that right away that Hermione’s hand had gone up again. Umbridge, rather than address it out loud, went up to her. Draco and Kit shared a curious look, wondering what it was about. 

Hermione clearly wasn’t sharing Umbridge’s idea to whisper. The first few words exchanged had been fairly quiet, but then, Hermione spoke louder.

“But I disagree,” she said. The other students perked up. “You disagree?” inquired Umbridge, now a little louder. 

“Yes, I do,” said Hermione. “Mr. Slinkhard doesnʹt like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when theyʹre used defensively.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” said Professor Umbridge, looking aggravated. “Well, Iʹm afraid it is Mr. Slinkhardʹs opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger.” Hermione began to retort, but Umbridge stopped her. “Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor house.”

Draco knew immediately to clap his hand over Kit’s mouth, holding it firmly as several students asked out loud for some sort of clarification regarding why Hermione Granger, of all people, was the cause of Gryffindor losing points. Behind them, even Pansy and Theo looked quite confused. 

“What for?” said Harry angrily over the inquiring voices of the others. 

“For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions,” said Professor Umbridge smoothly. “I am here to teach you using a Ministry approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more licence, but as none of them— with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age appropriate subjects— would have passed a Ministry inspection—”

“Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher,” said Harry loudly, and Draco already knew that this was going to go terribly. “There was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head.”

There it was. An uncomfortably long silence followed, though Draco knew it wouldn’t have been so quiet if he hadn’t kept his hand over Kit’s mouth, and planted his hand firmly on her thigh to hold her down. She seemed outraged, and was trying to swat his hands away, furious he’d silenced her, but his grip was too strong for her to fight off.

“I think another weekʹs detentions would do you some good, Mr. Potter,” said Umbridge sweetly.

Harry promptly shut his mouth after that, but Draco didn’t let go of Kit until she stopped fighting, and instead just crossed her arms and let her body slump down onto her textbook. 

“Sorry,” said Draco right after the class once they walked out.

“It’s fine,” muttered Kit. He had, after all, saved her from another miserable week. “I just— ugh! I wish that I could keep that vile woman’s kidney in a jar on my desk or something. That way Mimi doesn’t accuse me of being murderous.”

“Which one is Mimi?” inquired Draco, trying to get her to a new subject. “I haven’t met all of your friends.”

“You know her as Morag Macdougal. She just hates her name, and prefers to be called Mimi. She’s Pureblood, has a super huge family?”

“Oh, the one with the famous Quidditch player cousin. I remember her, yeah. Is she the Quidditch fanatic too?”

“No, the Quidditch fanatic is Su Li. Mimi can’t even fly a broom. She learned but she refuses to do it. I suppose at least in a life or death situation she’d have the means to do it but no practice.”

“Sucks to suck,” Draco said with a more teasing air. “I’ve been able to fly since I was born.”

“Not since you were born,” said Kit, rolling her eyes.

“Longer than you have, anyway.”

“Yes, I recall. You were the one who taught me, remember?”

The memory made Draco crack a grin. “Yes, I remember. You weren’t scared at all, but you were too impulsive. You crashed in your mother’s garden.”

“But I was bold enough to fly high and that’s how I discovered the pond, so we owe that hang out spot to me.”

“We probably would have discovered it eventually, you know, it’s not like we weren’t going to explore. We’ve gone further than the pond.”

Kit shrugged. “Sure, I suppose. But I give myself credit.”

At least, she felt significantly calmer now. They turned down a hallway toward the Slytherin Common Room, and found themselves not surrounded by any other students. 

“So, what are we?” Draco decided to ask. “Don’t feel pressure to answer. But… what is this? Clearly, we couldn’t be patient enough to wait after that first kiss. And we haven’t discussed the details behind it.”

Kit let out a soft breath. “You are my best friend, Draco. That’s for certain. From there… well, aside from the fact we have to get married in a few years, there isn’t really a label for where we’re at. I still think maybe we should wait to go further but I can admit that I can’t… refrain from that. Not at all.”

Draco put his hands in his pockets. “So not girlfriend and boyfriend. Not just friends. Friends… who snog?”

“Friends who snog is a weird statement but it’s most accurate,” Kit said. “Because if we went with ‘friends with benefits,’ well… erm… that implies a little more than snogging.”

Draco nodded, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Okay. Friends who snog. And is this, er— just between us? I did tell Blaise. I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted.”

“No, it’s okay. But outside of that— yes, just between us.”

“Perfect.” Looking quickly around, Draco leaned down, and pecked her lips quickly before pulling her into the Common Room. "Come on, now, Kit Kat, let's hit the books. Maybe if we're good and keep you out of detention, we can have a nice little competition with Hermione for best grade in Potions."

Kit pretended that that hadn’t made a thousand butterflies flutter in her stomach.

He really was changing.


	41. Chapter 41

**Kit really wished Professor Flitwick had insulted Umbridge, or something.**

But no. The first evaluation of the toad’s that she’d had to witness, and Flitwick had been perfectly civil. Kit wished that Professors were allowed to curse. There was no way Flitwick was on board with Umbridge’s infiltration, but he did not show his true sentiments at all.

“Flitwick is downright boring sometimes,” huffed Kit to Blaise and Draco as they walked to Care of Magical Creatures. “I get that he is a perfect gentleman but really, he could have been sassy or something. I heard McGonagall left Umbridge looking stupid, in the most McGonagall way possible. I’d have paid to see that…”

“I’m sure there’s a way to ask Hermione to show you her memory of it,” mused Blaise. “That’s an advanced thing but we could figure it out, you know. My mum used to do it to Andrea and I when we were younger, if we didn’t fess up about something bad.”

“How _is_ Andrea, anyway?”

“Sends her greetings, as usual. Still planning her wedding. She might invite you, you know. Have you and I be ring bearers, because she doesn’t trust her fiancé’s younger siblings to do it.”

“Well, I expect an invitation soon, then,” said Kit happily, leaning a bit closer to Draco, who was rummaging through his bag as he walked. He looked up briefly and offered her a smile before diving his hand back in. “Can’t find my bloody quill, I think I left it in Flitwick’s,” he grunted.

“You can borrow mine,” said Kit. “I don’t take notes in Care anyway.”

Draco shook his head, not wanting her to have an excuse to zone out. “Nah— I’ll go retrieve it. See you both in a bit.” He dashed back the way they’d come. 

Blaise took the opportunity to confront Kit. “So, what’s it like to snog Draco?” he asked casually. “I heard a third year wondering about it the other day outside the greenhouses.”

Kit blinked, before letting her lips curl into a smirk. “It’s wonderful, actually,” she said nonchalantly. “If you want a turn you can take one, as long as it’s alright with Draco. That way you can practice for when you finally gather your balls up and ask Hermione out.”

“I seem to have hit a nerve,” teased Blaise, elbowing her lightly in the side. “Not ready to relay your experiences, then? S’alright, keep your secrets…”

She shrugged in response. “I never said I was keeping secrets. And it wasn’t a nerve you hit, it was my ribcage. I’m being serious— it’s wonderful. Like I said… it’s good practice.”

“I highly doubt I’ll learn anything from attaching my lips to Draco’s.”

“Go straight for it, then, Blaise. Hermione’s probably snogged Viktor Krum. You snogged… what’s her name… erm…” Kit paused to think. “Second year—”

“I didn’t snog her, Kit, I just kissed her,” said Blaise. “I don’t even know her name. She’s a seventh year by now, and it was just a silly game that they let me join because some of them knew Andrea before she graduated. She was Head Girl that year and I guess those girls owed her for some help…”

“Alright, so the point is that you want to snog Hermione.”

Blaise looked away sheepishly, making Kit nudge him back. “You can admit it. If you want me to admit how much I enjoyed snogging Draco, then you can admit wanting to snog Hermione.”

“That’s— that’s not the point. Sure, I’d very much like to snog her, but that’s not the only thing I want. I really, really fancy her, Kit. I’m sure you can tell that. I want… what they write about in novels. That kind of affection that comes only once in a millenia. I don’t want to rush it. I want to take my time, I want to do it right. She’s… she’s amazing, Kit, I’m sure you know that. She is brilliant, and maybe she knows nothing about Quidditch but… sometimes in the library we can talk for hours and I never get bored. She has this way of moving her hands and scrunching up her eyes when she’s talking about something she’s really passionate about. It’s a beautiful look on her. Hell, Kit, I don’t think she really knows how pretty she is. Bloody gorgeous.”

“Who’s bloody gorgeous?” 

Draco was back. Blaise blushed, and Kit took over. “Your mum is bloody gorgeous,” she answered without missing a beat, shooting Blaise a wink. It was sweet how much he clearly cared for Hermione. Kit wondered where they’d be once they graduated. She could picture it— Blaise and Hermione Zabini, kicking ass and reforming the Ministry. 

“Thank you, I’ll let her know you said that,” Draco answered, bumping his hip against Kit’s. “I’m sure she’d love to know of your hidden affections for her.”

“She’s gorgeous but I’m into someone else,” sighed Kit. “Sorry to her.”

“Is he related to her?”

“No, I don’t think so…”

Draco rolled his eyes and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “What’s wrong, Kit Kat, don’t want to admit you’re into me?”

The sheer boldness of his question caught her off guard. It seemed that had been his intention. He smirked the instant he realized that she had blushed. 

“Get a room, you two,” said Blaise as they made their way down to where Professor Grubbly-Plank waited on lawn near the forest. Professor Umbridge was right beside her, clipboard in hand.

“And just like that, our sweet moment is over,” huffed Kit, crossing her arms. As they drew nearer, they heard Umbridge ask: “You do not usually take this class, is that correct?” 

“Quite correct,” said Professor Grubbly‐Plank. “I am a substitute teacher standing in for Professor Hagrid.”

“Hmm,” said Umbridge, “I wonder— the Headmaster seems strangely reluctant to give me any information on the matter— can you tell me what is causing Professor Hagridʹs very extended leave of absence?”

“She’s bloody nosy,” muttered Draco as they got situated near their respective Bowtruckles. 

“‘Fraid I canʹt,” said Professor Grubbly‐Plank. “Donʹt know anything more about it than you do. Got an owl from Dumbledore, would I like a couple of weeksʹ teaching work. I accepted. Thatʹs as much as I know. Well... shall I get started then?”

“Yes, please do,” said Umbridge, scribbling on her clipboard.

Kit wished she could gauge her own eyeballs out, or something. She forced herself to actually help Blaise with the Bowtruckle charting, but every now and then, she’d lean over and listen to what Umbridge was asking the other students. She was asking them about creatures, and thankfully, most were competent enough to answer properly. There was one point where she stopped for an incredibly long time beside Dean Thomas and asked him about a thousand questions, but overall, Umbridge didn’t seem dissatisfied. 

“Overall,” said Umbridge, returning to Professor Grubbly‐Plankʹs side, “how do you, as a temporary member of staff— an objective outsider, I suppose you might say— how do you find Hogwarts? Do you feel you receive enough support from the school management?”

“Oh, yes, Dumbledoreʹs excellent,” said Professor Grubbly‐Plank heartily. “Yes, Iʹm very happy with the way things are run, very happy indeed.”

Umbridge seemed to have been wishing to get a more negative answer. Her expression was what Kit might classify as ‘politely incredulous.’ She made a tiny note on her clipboard. “And what are you planning to cover with this class this year— assuming, of course, that Professor Hagrid does not return?”

Professor Grubbly-Plank seemed to be quite prepared to answer. “Oh, Iʹll take them through the creatures that most often come up in O.W.L. Not much left to do— theyʹve studied unicorns and Nifflers, I thought weʹd cover Porlocks and Kneazles, make sure they can recognise Crups and Knarls, you know…”

“Well, _you_ seem to know what youʹre doing, at any rate,” said Umbridge, making a very obvious tick on her clipboard. Kit and Harry exchanged exasperated looks from across the lawn. When she looked away, Kit noticed that Hermione was looking her way— to where Blaise was hunched over tending very gently to his Bowtruckle. 

“Now, I hear there have been injuries in this class?”

Kit wanted to groan loudly. She looked up, seeing Crabbe and Goyle exchanging stupid grins, clearly pleased. They looked over at Draco. “Draco got slashed by a Hippogriff,” Goyle announced. 

“A Hippogriff?” said Umbridge, now scribbling frantically.

“That was my fault,” Draco said without missing a beat, which left the entire class staring at him, stunned. Clearly, no one had been expecting him to own up to it. “Professor Hagrid outlined the instructions for approaching a Hippogriff and I didn’t listen, so I got hurt. It… wasn’t that bad.”

Umbridge’s eyebrows shot up, definitely confused as to why he hadn’t made Hagrid out to be the villain in that incident. “Oh? Well… that’s certainly interesting.” She made a rather short note, as if disappointed with the report. “Well, then, thank you very much, Professor Grubbly-Plank, I think thatʹs all I need here. You will be receiving the results of your inspection within ten days.”

“Jolly good,” said Professor Grubbly‐Plank, and Umbridge set off back across the lawn to the castle. 

Kit didn’t realize she was smiling until Blaise nudged her. “Kit, what’s up?”

“Huh?”

“You were grinning.”

“Ah… well, I suppose I’m proud of him.” She looked over to where Crabbe and Goyle looked at Draco, unsure what to say.

“You should pull him over for a victory snog after class,” Blaise suggested with a wink.

“Only if you do the same with Hermione.”

But as it turned out, Kit didn’t need him to go along with that. When the bell had rung, she’d pulled Draco behind Hagrid’s Cabin and gave him a wonderful snog indeed.

**_**

It half past eleven when Kit left the Slytherin Common Room. 

After their snog, she and Draco had gone to the dungeons and gotten started on homework. It’d been just them for awhile, since Blaise had been in the library with Hermione. At one point, Snape had walked past, but he hadn’t given her a detention, despite having clearly set his gaze on her.

Kit had scrunched her eyebrows up when he left and made a face at Draco. “Think Snape got laid today? He didn’t give me detention. Must mean something put him in a good mood.”

Draco let out a hard chuckle and covered his face. “You gave me a very bad visual with that statement…”

“Woah there, no one told you to imagine it. Jeez, Draco, you little creep…”

“Wait, no, it’s not like that—”

“Imagine if Snape knew you imagined him in such a context…”

“Kit! You know that wasn’t what I meant—”

“Picturing him being intimate with some imaginary woman, because we all know no one would shag that…”

Draco growled and covered his face, making Kit smirk triumphantly. “You’re a devil, Kit Kat,” he said, peeking from behind one of his fingers. 

“Thank you, darling, I try my best,” she said, bowing before continuing to scribble on her parchment.

“Okay, but realistically, you haven’t had a row with him in the middle of class yet. You’re doing well in lessons, too. He probably hasn’t got a reason to punish you— outside of you being here, at least.”

“Why is he such an arse anyway? He could just choose to be more tolerable. Isn’t it concerning to you how so many of us either hate him or are afraid of him? That shit is _not_ normal.”

“You have a point there. You’d think someone like Longbottom would have had a boggart of wetting his pants in front of the whole school… or falling off a broom… but it was literally Snape.”

“See, the Ministry is fine with Snape being here but they want to toss Hagrid out. At least Hagrid is fostering a caring environment for students with emotional needs. And wait— I forget, what was your boggart in third year?”

“Ah, I went after hours, same as you, so it makes sense you didn’t see it. At that point in life, it was being stuck in a dark room. Now… probably would be my father. In the future? Something worse.”

Kit winced, and reached out to take his hand. He accepted, and gave her a small smile. “Don’t worry about it, Kit Kat, it’s all hypothetical— I doubt I’ll be facing a boggart again anytime soon.”

“But still. Your father shouldn’t be treating you the way he does. That’s not okay.”

“I’ll be okay. Don’t worry, alright? Can we talk about something else?”

Reluctantly, Kit agreed, and until Blaise arrived, they’d discussed their elective classes. 

However, once they had tired themselves out and finished the most urgent assignments, Kit had bade them farewell, daring to kiss Draco on the cheek before darting out. She made a point to go past Umbridge’s office, wondering if Harry was out of detention.

It seemed he had just finished. When she rounded the corner, she saw him departing, and quickly jogged to catch up. At first, he was startled when he heard her footsteps, but quickly calmed down when he saw her. 

“Kit,” he breathed. “Thank Merlin.” 

She didn’t answer, examining how much blood was pooled around the scar on his hand. She yanked out a handkerchief and held it down tightly, before pulling at his scarf and wrapping it completely around his hand. She kept his hand in her grasp, giving just the right amount of pressure to subside the bleeding. Harry kept walking, leading them both to the Gryffindor Common Room.

“I’m surprised,” Harry mused, keeping his voice low. “Malfoy, in class today… I expected him to badmouth Hagrid.”

“He’s doing much better now, Harry. He recognizes his faults. I’m quite proud of him.”

“I was partially in shock— so was Ron. Hermione didn’t look surprised, but then again, she’s had a civil conversation with him at least once, whilst Ron and I haven’t. Nice job to you and Blaise, on that.”

Kit beamed. “It’s really all Draco. We’re just good influences. He’s had it in him all along.”

Harry made a face, but offered her a smile all the same. “Well, just make sure he doesn’t… hurt you, you know? He’s still a Malfoy.”

“And I’m a Thompson. Hurt can go both ways.”

“Yeah, I know. I just worry about you, Kit. You’re good. He’s… only recently begun to get nearer to that category. I don’t trust him.”

“I’m being careful, Harry, I promise.”

At least, that seemed to reassure him a bit. “Say, Kit, how has Cho been?”

“She’s been good. I think maybe you should talk to her, you know,” she suggested. “She’d enjoy hearing from you.”

Harry blushed. “D’you think so?”

“Oh, I know so.”

When the Fat Lady let them in, they found Hermione and Ron waiting in the armchairs. Hermione immediately stood, bringing over a small bowl of yellow liquid for Harry. “Here,” she said urgently. “Soak your hand in that, itʹs a solution of strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles, it should help.”

Kit let go of his hand and removed the scarf and handkerchief. Harry thrust his hand into the bowl and let out a sigh of relief. There was a purring sound, and Kit initially thought it came from Harry, until she noticed Hermione’s cat, Crookshanks, at their feet. 

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry breathed gratefully, sitting down as Kit picked Crookshanks up and sat beside Harry, depositing the cat on her lap. She let the cat sniff her hand, and Harry rubbed its ears pleasantly. 

“I still reckon you should complain about this,” said Ron in a low voice. “Owling Moody isn’t enough.”

“No,” said Harry flatly.

ʹ”McGonagall would go nuts if she knew—”

“Yeah, she probably would,” agreed Harry. “But we told you already that Umbridge got Kit’s father to make this a non-issue with the Ministry. They’d simply let Umbridge pass another decree, saying something along the lines of ‘anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately.’”

“Mad-Eye will tell us if we have to do anything specific,” sighed Kit. “We’ve been exchanging several letters. I’ll update him again tomorrow.”

Hermione let out a shaky breath. “She’s an awful woman… awful… you know, I was saying to Ron when you both came in… we’ve got to do something about her.”

“I suggested poison,” Ron said grimly.

“Oooh, I second that,” said Kit, caressing Crookshanks’s back. “Or maybe, you could obliviate her like what happened to Lockhart. Have her end up… wherever that bloke is.”

“No, nothing like that,” Hermione said. “Something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we’re not going to learn any Defense from her at all.” She paused briefly, darting her tongue over her lips. “You know, I was thinking today…” she looked up at Harry as if nervous to continue, but did so anyway. “I was thinking that— maybe the time’s come when we should just— just do it ourselves.”

“Teach ourselves?” asked Kit. “I mean, good idea, but that’s extra work. Hours go to waste in her class, and outside of that… it’s not going to be easy.”

“Exactly!” agreed Ron. “Harry and I are behind on homework again and it’s only the second week.”

“But this is much more important than homework!” argued Hermione. 

Ron and Harry looked like they’d seen an alien. “I didnʹt think there was anything in the universe more important than homework!” said Ron incredulously.

“Donʹt be silly, of course there is,” said Hermione. “Itʹs about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridgeʹs first lesson, for whatʹs waiting for us out there. Itʹs about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we donʹt learn anything for a whole year—”

“We canʹt do much by ourselves,” said Ron in a defeated voice. “I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practise them, I suppose—”

“Here’s the thing,” said Hermione. “Kit— McGonagall and Flitwick let you learn a few extra spells throughout the years, right?”

“Yes,” said Kit. “But they’re teaching other subjects.”

“No, I know that we can’t do them. But think, this isn’t something we can learn out of books or by ourselves. We’re going to need a proper teacher to advance through what we need for… for the O.W.L. and for what’s out there.”

“Who do you suggest?” asked Kit. “I mean, I’d say Lupin—”

“No, not Lupin, he’s too busy with the Order and, anyway, the most we could see him is during Hogsmeade weekends and thatʹs not nearly often enough…”

Kit furrowed her eyebrows. “What about some of the older students? I’m sure Roger and some of his seventh year friends would be willing to teach us what they know.”

Hermione bit her lip. “Actually… I was thinking about Harry.”

A small ‘oh’ of understanding came out of Kit’s mouth. Ron slowly nodded his head. “That’s… that’s definitely an idea.”

“What’s an idea?” said Harry, not getting the gist yet.

“You, teaching us to do it,” said Ron. 

“But— but I’m not a teacher,” Harry noted.

“Okay, maybe not, genius,” sighed Kit. “But think— Hermione’s pinpointing something really hard to overlook here! Besides being the best in the year at Defense Against the Dark Arts—”

“What?” Harry said, grinning as though he couldn’t believe anything they were saying. “No, I’m not— you and Hermione and several other Ravenclaws have done better than me on tests.”

“Not true,” Hermione retorted. “You were best in third year— the only year we had a teacher who actually knew the subject. Either way— it’s not about test results! Think what you’ve done!”

“How d’you mean?” asked Harry, apparently still thoroughly confused. 

Ron cracked a smirk. “You know what, Hermione… Kit, I’m not sure I want someone this stupid teaching me.”

Kit let out a soft laugh. “Seriously, Harry, did you forget that you stopped the Dark Lord from taking the Philosopher’s Stone in first year? You were eleven fucking years old! And Dumbledore gave you like, a million points for Gryffindor as compensation.”

“Okay, but that was luck, not skill—”

“How about second year?” interrupted Ron. “You killed the Basilisk and destroyed Riddle.”

“Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn’t turned up—”

“Third year!” piped up Kit, both her and Ron looking thoroughly excited. “You guys told me that you fought off about a hundred Dementors at once— you’re still the only one younger than seventh year that can do a Patronus Charm!”

“You know that was a fluke, Kit, I told you that if the Time Turner hadn’t—”

“What about last year?” Ron said, leaping to his feet enthusiastically. “You fought off You-Know-Who again—”

“Listen to me!” Harry said impatiently as Ron and Kit high-fived across from him. Hermione was even smirking. “Just listen to me, alright? It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff was luck— I didnʹt know what I was doing half the time, I didnʹt plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of, and I nearly always had help—”

Kit nudged Ron with her foot, letting out a soft laugh. Hermione seemed quite pleased at having suggested it— it was a grand idea to them, for Harry to teach them. 

“Don’t sit there grinning like you know better than I do,” Harry snapped. “I was there, wasn’t I? I know what went on, alright? And I didnʹt get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because— because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right— but I just blundered through it all, I didnʹt have a clue what I was doing— STOP LAUGHING!”

He got to his feet, knocking the bowl of Murtlap essence onto Kit’s lap, drenching her robes and making Crookshanks dive under the sofa. The smiles were wiped off the other three’s faces as Harry glared at them, apparently quite cross. 

“You donʹt know what itʹs like! You— none of you— youʹve never had to face him, have you? You think itʹs just memorising a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like youʹre in class or something? The whole time youʹre sure you know thereʹs nothing between you and dying except your own— your own brain or guts or whatever— like you can think straight when you know youʹre about a nanosecond from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die— theyʹve never taught us that in their classes, what itʹs like to deal with things like that— and you three sit there acting like Iʹm a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up— you just donʹt get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadnʹt needed me—”

“Hey,” said Kit sharply, her temper rising now that her clothes were stained, and that Harry was having a go at them. “We never said or implied anything like that, and we never— never insulted Cedric…” she sank back, trying to stop herself from lashing out.

Hermione looked up timidly at Harry. “Don’t you see?” she whispered. “This… this is exactly why we need you. We… we need to know what it’s really like… facing him… facing Voldemort.”

Ron let out a wince, and Kit’s gaze shot up toward Hermione. She didn’t recall the brunette ever saying Voldemort’s name like that. She herself almost always referred to him as the Dark Lord because that was what her parents called him. It seemed that this had calmed Harry down, and he sat down slowly. 

“Just think about it,” said Kit, standing and picking up the bowl, handing it back to Hermione. “She’s got a good point, Harry. Think about it. I’m off to go and take a bath, now.”

Without another word, she left, though a smile came to her face as she walked out. Hermione was a bloody genius.

Take that, Umbitch.


	42. Chapter 42

**Two weeks later, Kit was quite excited to start their campaign against Umbridge.**

She and Hermione had conspired together to decide who they were going to invite. Since Harry hadn’t wanted to discuss the idea, they had taken it upon themselves to create a list of who they could trust to be a part of it.

“Blaise for sure,” Hermione said off the bat as she wrote on the parchment. “Su, Mimi, Anthony, and Terry are definitely invited. What do you think about the other Ravenclaw students in your year?”

“Michael Corner will want to be invited, and that means Stephen Cornfoot and Kevin Entwhistle will come too. They’re trustworthy, and they could benefit from it. Padma Patil, Mandy Brocklehurst, and Lisa Turpin deserve to come too, especially since I expect you’ll invite Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. Other than the ones in our year, I expect Harry wouldn’t mind if we invited Cho Chang and Luna Lovegood, right? I think we need older students in the mix too. I don’t know if Roger and his friends will want to— they’re already seventh years and I think they might not keep that a secret… they worry too much about their reputation with Umbridge.”

“Alright, then that’s good— Luna and Cho. You’ll be in charge of telling them, since they’re in your house. For Gryffindor, I was thinking Dean Thomas, Parvati, Lavender, Neville, and Seamus Finnigan… though I’m not sure Seamus will be told right away, so I’ll let Dean tell him since they’re best friends. I’m sure he’ll convince him. Then, Dennis and Colin Creevey, as well as Ginny— they could do well with it. I was also thinking of Fred and George, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell— they may be older but I think we can trust them to be part of it.”

“Ooh, definitely them, they’re fun. Hufflepuff now… I don’t talk to any Hufflepuffs outside our year, honestly, but I know Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones will want to come for certain. Dragged in with them would likely be Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and that Zacharias Smith bloke. He’s a prat but he’s not going to tell.”

Hermione seemed pleased with this. “We can split the Hufflepuffs if you want, when we tell them. As for Slytherin… I can only think of Blaise, honestly.”

Kit winced. “Yeah… the others are not going to want to side with us even if it would benefit them— they’d get more power snitching to Umbridge. As for Draco…” she hesitated. “I would like to invite him, I would, but maybe not to the first few meetings. How about, whenever Seamus Finnigan comes around, we discuss with Blaise how to tell Draco? I just worry he’ll get in trouble being involved with us. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Hermione gave her a curious look. “You two have… progressed then, I’m guessing?”

Kit blushed, and Hermione’s lips curled into a grin. “You snogged him, Kit, didn’t you?” she whispered, leaning closer so that no one would overhear. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kit said nonchalantly, taking the parchment from her to double check the list. Hermione raised her eyebrow, but did not question it further. Kit figured she knew that she had snogged him. 

“Anyway, where should we have them meet us?” Kit asked once the list was finalized. “The Three Broomsticks might make others listen in, but at least it will already be loud and maybe we can be masked in well. The only issue is that a lot of Professors pop in there because they like to chat with Madam Rosmerta. Imagine if McGonagall comes in and tries to figure out what we’re doing? She might advise us against it…”

“Well, what about the Hog’s Head?” Hermione suggested.

“That’s a super sketchy place, Hermione, only adults go in there, mostly, and it… it gives me a bad feeling. Anyone could hear us there.”

“There won’t be a perfect place to hold this meeting… but in terms of risk I suppose I’d rather the Hog’s Head so that no professors come in, or nosy students.”

Kit hesitated. “I don’t like the idea but if you think it’s the best way to go…”

After that not-so-much-of-a-consensus regarding the location, the two girls had set off to tell the people on it. They’d gone their separate ways at first, to their respective Common Rooms. Kit had had an easy time telling her friends, as the boys had all been in their dormitory and she had told them all at once. She found Padma, Mandy, and Lisa on their beds, and Su and Mimi in one of the Ravenclaw library sections, apparently researching about the eagle knocker to determine the extent of how vague their answer could be to enter the Common Room. 

She had found Luna out on one of the balconies, and Cho in the bathroom. Kit had pulled Cho away from her friend Marietta Edgecombe, who Kit did not trust since she’d ratted her out for simply trying to pet Mrs. Norris in her first year. At patrol the next few nights, she had told Ernie and Hannah, then relayed the message to the other Hufflepuffs, who had gladly accepted.

The morning of the Hogsmeade visit, Kit felt thrilled, eager to see the turnout. It was a bright but windy day, and after sitting at breakfast with her friends, she and Su went to fetch Blaise so that they could walk to the Hog’s Head with the Gryffindor trio. 

Once they joined them in the entrance hall, Blaise moved from being beside Kit to being closer to Hermione, greeting her with a smile as usual. To her surprise, Kit had noticed Su moved to be closer to Ron, greeting him cordially and asking him a Quidditch related question.

Thus, Kit remained walking a bit behind with Harry. “How are you feeling?” Kit asked, crossing her arms a bit. 

Harry let out a soft sigh. “Just a bit concerned. Sirius and I haven’t spoken since that time in the fireplace, and I feel like I insulted him by asking him not to come and check on me. I was looking at my Hogsmeade permission slip, and I was thinking how if it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t be coming at all. I just don’t want him to get caught and put back in Azkaban.”

Kit undid her crossed arms to pat him on the back. “He’ll come around. He is probably just really overwhelmed being stuck in that house with only Kreacher and sometimes Alastor to keep him company.” 

“So you call him Alastor now?” Harry said, grinning a bit. 

“Well, that’s how he signs his cards, I suppose I’m in the habit of referring to him as that, now.”

In the past two weeks, she and Alastor Moody had sent several letters to each other. Mostly, it was Kit complaining about Umbridge, and Moody responding and mentioning that her comments had either made him laugh or made him concerned that her temper would get out of control. He didn’t judge her, but reminded her to stay in check. It was a nice outlet for Kit, and it made her feel better to know that someone in the Order was well aware of the happenings in the school. She had even told him about Hermione’s idea, and he had been supportive, though he advised them to be quite careful. 

When they arrived at the Hog’s Head, Kit wondered whether the ‘be careful’ should have been relayed to Hermione when choosing the location.

It was just as sketchy as Kit thought it would be. There were wizards with long cloaks, concealing their faces as they drank glasses of Firewhiskey. Their loud and strong Yorkshire accents rang around in an almost eerie echo. It smelled like a farm, and the windows were filled with grime. There was dirt all over the floor. In the corner, there was a witch that had a very thick black veil over her face, so long it brushed over her toes.

“I donʹt know about this, Hermione,” Harry muttered, speaking for Kit as well. “Has it occurred to you Umbridge might be under that?” Hermione cast a glance to the witch, and shook her head.

“Umbridge is shorter than that woman,” she said quietly. “And anyway, even if Umbridge does come in here thereʹs nothing she can do to stop us, Harry, because Iʹve double— and triple checked the school rules. Weʹre not out of bounds; I specifically asked Professor Flitwick whether students were allowed to come in the Hogʹs Head, and he said yes, but he advised me strongly to bring our own glasses. And Iʹve looked up everything I can think of about study groups and homework groups and theyʹre definitely allowed. I just donʹt think itʹs a good idea if we parade what weʹre doing.”

“You didn’t tell me you asked Flitwick,” Kit said with a wince. “Maybe you should have told us about bringing our own glasses… besides, this isn’t a homework group. Damn it, I knew we should have gone to the Three Broomsticks instead.”

Before Hermione could answer, the barman came up to them. “What?”

“Er— six Butterbeers please,” said Hermione. The man pulled out the six bottles. “Twelve sickles.”

“I got half of it,” Su said, rummaging in her pocket. Kit took the opportunity to get the other half, and the two girls slid their silver over the bar. The barman hardly looked at them, he seemed to be gazing more at Harry. 

After they took their seats at a distant corner, Ron looked at the bar with enthusiasm. “Hey, you know what? We could order anything we liked in here. I bet that bloke would sell us anything, he wouldnʹt care. Iʹve always wanted to try Firewhiskey.”

“Ooh, it’s terrible,” Kit said, scrunching up her nose. “Blaise and I got into a stash of it once. I’m down to get one if you do.”

Hermione glared at them incredulously. “You— are— prefects!”

Blaise concealed a snicker behind his hand as Ron and Kit shared a dejected look. Su, however, smirked mischievously. “Well, I’m not a prefect.” Before Hermione could say anything, Su went over to one of the men with bandages on his face, sliding him a few Sickles. The man looked around before handing her one of the bottles, which she quickly tucked under her robes.

Ron seemed overjoyed as Su made her way back. “Okay, got it,” she said happily. “But we have to conceal it as a Butterbeer bottle. Anyone know how to do that?”

“I do,” Kit said. She had studied up on spells for concealment ever since that stupid letter her father sent her. “I haven’t tried it yet but let’s hope it works.” She ducked under the table as Su extracted the bottle, ignoring the angry whispers Hermione was spouting out to get them to stop. Kit waved her wand, muttering a few words, and the bottle soon resembled one of the ones containing Butterbeer.

“I have never—” Hermione hissed, looking mortified as Su and Kit triumphantly brought the bottle up to rest in the center of the table.

“S’okay, Hermione, let them suffer, their sinuses won’t thank them for that,” Blaise said, putting his hand over hers, which calmed her down immediately. “They’ll learn their lesson the hard way.”

“You wish, Zabini,” Su said, opening the bottle and taking a small sip. She let out a snort and coughed, and with watery eyes, held up a shaky thumbs up. “It’s great,” she said hoarsely, sliding it over to Ron, who took the next sip, reacting similarly, though without speaking. 

“Idiots,” Hermione said, covering her face with her other hand, not letting go of Blaise. 

“So, who’s supposed to meet us?” Harry asked, smirking a bit. 

“Just a couple of people,” Hermione answered.

“Not really a couple,” Kit said, raising her eyebrow. “We invited basically the amount of students in our year, honestly.”

And it turned out that they had definitely been interested in Kit and Hermione’s proposal. First, Neville, Dean, Lavender, and the Patil twins had arrived. Following them, Mimi, Terry, Anthony, as well as Michael Corner, Kevin Entwhistle, and Stephen Cornfoot. Not long after, Cho Chang as well as Marietta Edgecombe, much to Kit’s dismay.

“We didn’t invite Marietta,” Kit said under her breath to Hermione. “Why is she here?”

“Oh! Cho asked if she could invite her and I told her yes.”

Kit let out a soft growl and covered her face. “Shit— Cho asked because she knows I don’t trust Marietta…”

The subject was left without discussion. Luna Lovegood arrived with Ginny, followed by the Creevey brothers, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson. Hannah, Susan, Ernie, Justin, and Zacharias came in altogether, and lastly, the Weasley twins with their friend Lee Jordan. 

Fred Weasley took charge of getting the headcount for Butterbeers, and the others each went and paid their share as Ron and Blaise went to assemble more chairs for the group, who were chattering loudly. It was drawing stares from the others in the bar. 

“What the hell did you two tell people?” Harry said a bit savagely to Kit and Hermione. “What are they expecting?”

“Calm yourself, it’s nothing bad,” answered Kit coolly. “They want to hear what you have to say. Besides, Hermione is starting up the meeting, so she’ll give you a good segue into it all.” 

Harry seemed reluctant, but by then, Hermione had already stood and gone to the front of the group, drawing their attention to her with a very weak ‘hi.’

“Well… erm… well, you know why you’re here,” Hermione said awkwardly, making Kit wish she’d been asked to start them off instead. “Erm… well, Harry here had the idea—” Harry gave her a sharp look and a small huff, which made Hermione quickly correct herself. “I mean, I had the idea… that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts— and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us, because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Hear, hear!” chorused the Ravenclaw boys, making Kit and Su smile.

Hermione seemed pleased at their support. “Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands. And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just in theory but doing the real spells.”

“You want to pass your Defense O.W.L. too though, I bet?” Michael Corner asked. 

“Of course I do,” said Hermione at once. “But more than that, I want to be properly trained in defence because... because… because Lord Voldemort is back.”

The reaction was immediate. Marietta shrieked. Terry and Anthony both twitched uncomfortably. Padma shuddered. Neville gave an odd yelp that he masked as a cough. Most others seemed shocked that Hermione said it. Collectively, however, the group turned to Harry.

“Well... that's the plan, anyway,” said Hermione. “If you want to join us, we need to decide how weʹre going to—”

“Whereʹs the proof You Know Whoʹs back?” said Zacharias Smith abruptly.

“Here we go,” grumbled Kit to Blaise.

“Well, Dumbledore believes it—” Hermione began.

“You mean, Dumbledore believes him,” he said, nodding at Harry. 

“Who are you?” said Ron, rather rudely, in response.

“Zacharias Smith. AndI think weʹve got the right to know exactly what makes him say You Know Whoʹs back.”

“Okay, seriously,” said Kit sharply, “the meeting isn’t about that, so you can be quiet and—”

“It’s okay, Kit,” said Harry, standing up and looking around at the group. “What makes me say he’s back? I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didnʹt believe him, you wonʹt believe me, and Iʹm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone.”

“Well, all Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You Know Who and that you brought Diggoryʹs body back to Hogwarts. He didnʹt give us details, he didnʹt tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think weʹd all like to know—”

“If youʹve come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I canʹt help you,” Harry said. Kit suspected his temper was rising again. “I donʹt want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if thatʹs what youʹre here for, you might as well clear out.”

However, no one left their seats. Harry gave Hermione a reproachful look, and with a rough sigh, Kit stood, deciding to take it from there.

“Alright, fuckers,” she said, looking thoroughly annoyed when her peers gave her confused looks. The Weasley twins as well as her closest friends seemed to be the only ones who were pleased with how they were addressed. “Like Hermione was saying, we invited all of you because Umbridge is downright atrocious at anything that doesn’t involve imposing her power on students with idiotic decrees. We’re here to discuss how we want this to work, how we want to meet, etcetera. Again, if you don’t want to be a part of it or if you’re just going to refuse to believe Harry, then leave.”

There was a brief silence when she finished. Susan Bones straightened up in her chair, raising her hand but not waiting to be addressed before she spoke. “Harry… is it true you can produce a Patronus?”

There was a murmur of interest around the group at this. “Yeah,” said Harry slightly defensively.

“A corporeal Patronus?”

Harry blinked, as if he had remembered something. “Er— you don’t know Madam Bones, do you?” Susan smiled happily. “She’s my auntie. Iʹm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So— is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?” 

“Yes,” said Harry.

“Blimey, Harry!” said Lee. “I never knew that!” 

“Mum told Ron not to spread it around,” said Fred, grinning at Harry. “She said you got enough attention as it was.”

“Sheʹs not wrong,” mumbled Harry, and a couple of people laughed. 

“And did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledoreʹs office?” demanded Terry, eager to get many questions answered. 

“Er— yeah, I did, yeah,” said Harry.

Justin Finch‐Fletchley whistled; the Creevey brothers exchanged awestruck looks and Lavender Brown said “Wow!” softly.

“And in our first year,” said Neville to the group at large, “he saved that Philological Stone—” 

“Philosopherʹs,” hissed Hermione.

“Yes, that— from You Know Who!” Hannah Abbot seemed very intrigued by this, her eyes widening.

“And thatʹs not to mention,” said Cho, “all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year— getting past dragons and merpeople and Acromantula and things...ʹ

There was a murmur of impressed agreement. Harry cleared his throat, and silence fell. “Look, I… I don’t want to sound like Iʹm trying to be modest or anything, but... I had a lot of help with all that stuff…”

“Not with the dragon, you didnʹt,” said Michael at once. “That was a seriously cool bit of flying…”

“And nobody helped you get rid of those Dementors this summer,” said Su.

“No,ʹ said Harry, “no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point Iʹm trying to make is—”

“Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?” said Zacharias Smith.

“Hereʹs an idea,” said Ron loudly, before Harry could speak, “why donʹt you shut your mouth?” Su and Kit exchanged pleased looks, and Blaise high fived Ron under their table. 

Zacharias flushed. “Well, we’ve all turned up to learn from him and now heʹs telling us he canʹt really do any of it.”

“Thatʹs not what he said,” snarled Fred.

“Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?” inquired George, pulling a long and lethal‐looking metal instrument from inside one of the Zonkoʹs bags.

“Or any part of your body, really, weʹre not fussy where we stick this,” said Fred.

As much as Kit agreed, she had to draw the attention back in. “Alright, well, straying away from sticking objects into humans… the point is that Harry has done some stellar shit, and we want to take lessons from him, yes?”

There was a murmur of general agreement. Zacharias folded his arms and said nothing, though perhaps this was because he was too busy keeping an eye on the instrument in Fredʹs hand.

“Right,” said Hermione, gazing happily at Kit. “Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really donʹt think thereʹs any point in meeting less than once a week—”

“Hang on,” said Angelina, “we need to make sure this doesnʹt clash with our Quidditch practice.” Cho and Zacharias stated their agreement when it came to their respective teams.

“Iʹm sure we can find a night that suits everyone,” said Hermione, slightly impatiently, “but you know, this is rather important, weʹre talking about learning to defend ourselves against V‐Voldemortʹs Death Eaters—”

“Well said!” barked Ernie Macmillan. Kit wondered why he hadn’t spoken prior to this. “Personally I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else weʹll do this year, even with our O.W.L.s coming up! I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher on us at this critical period. Obviously, they are in denial about the return of You Know Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells—”

“We have a theory on that,” Kit said. “And um— those of you who saw my outburst in her class know where this came from. There’s a certain degree of worry she seems to have about the power we hold. We think she’s got it in her head that Dumbledore could use students as like, a private army to fight against the Ministry. Stupid, really, but it would make sense when we consider how hard she’s working to shut us down.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Luna said very seriously, amidst the confused faces of the others who were still taking it into consideration. “After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army.”

This caused many more confused glances toward her. “Yes, he’s got an army of Heliopaths,” Luna said solemnly. 

“No, he hasnʹt,” snapped Hermione.

“Oh come on,” groaned Kit, “let’s not start this again—”

“Yes, he has,” said Luna, ignoring Kit.

“What are Heliopaths?” asked Neville, looking blank.

“Theyʹre spirits of fire,” said Luna, her eyes widening. “Great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of—”

“They donʹt exist, Neville,” said Hermione tartly.

“Oh, yes, they do!” said Luna angrily.

“Iʹm sorry, but whereʹs the proof of that?” snapped Hermione.

“There are plenty of eye‐witness accounts. Just because youʹre so narrow‐minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you—”

“Hem, hem,” said Ginny, in such a good imitation of Professor Umbridge that several people looked around in alarm and then laughed. “Werenʹt we trying to decide how often weʹre going to meet and have defence lessons?”

“Yes, thank you, Ginny,” said Kit gratefully as Blaise moved forward to pull Hermione back from advancing on Luna. “Let’s shoot out some ideas for where to meet. For now, we’re thinking once a week, to not disturb with any Quidditch practices. Any suggestions?”

There was silence as they thought. “Library?” Katie Bell said. 

“I canʹt see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library,” said Harry.

“Maybe an unused classroom?” said Dean.

“Yeah,” said Ron, “McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practicing for the Triwizard.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Kit said, seeing that no other ideas were being thrown out. “We’ll let you all know soon. Now, Hermione and I thought that everyone should sign a parchment just to say they were here, that way we know who’s actually interested. However, we will say, that you all better not blab because you can get us all in serious trouble. Your signature will mean you agree to keep this a secret, alright?”

Some people, like Fred, George, Lee, and Ginny, had no problem stepping up to write their names. Others hesitated a lot.

“What’s the deal, Ernie?” Kit asked when she came around with the parchment.

“Well— we are prefects,” he said. “And if the list was found…”

“We’re going to keep it nicely hidden, okay, don’t doubt us on that,” Kit said. “You can’t honestly think that someone as meticulous and law-abiding as Hermione would let this fall into the wrong hands, hmm? Not to mention me, who gets into plenty of trouble already.”

Looking less anxious, Ernie signed, as did the others who heard Kit. When they had all finished, she rolled up the parchment and handed it to Hermione. “Are you going through with the, um, preventative measures you were suggesting?” she asked.

Hermione nodded. The girls had discussed how to make sure no one snitched. Kit had recommended blackmail but Hermione had researched about markings, and they had deduced perhaps they could make a distinctive mark on anyone who told. 

“Make it a specific symbol,” Kit noted. “Something like a small coil on their forehead, so we know, but it doesn’t mark them forever.”

Hermione, unbeknownst to Kit, had another plan for the marking, but said nothing and simply tucked the parchment away. “That went quite well,” she sighed once the six exited the tavern. Su and Blaise seemed eager to continue hanging out in the group.

“Zacharias is such a wart,” Ron grunted. 

“You can say that again,” Su sighed. “I remember once he was my partner in Herbology and he just had to comment about how bad the dragon hide gloves looked on me, as if I had a choice about which ones I got. Not my fault my mum wanted me to have her ancient ones…”

“I can’t stand him, but honestly, Ernie would have told him anyway,” said Kit. “So I just thought we might as well let him know. He’s insufferable but he isn’t one to blab.”

“I’m still stunned that everyone we invited showed up,” Hermione said. “I suppose Michael Corner might have been persuaded to come more because Ginny was going to be there, you know.”

“Wait, what’s Michael got to do with Ginny?” Ron asked.

Blaise, Kit, and Su shared a look, before smirking at each other. “You know what,” said Blaise, “I think here’s where we go our separate ways… come on, Hermione, why don’t we go restock on some books?” He took her hand and pulled her away before Ron got his answer.

“Yes, and Ron, how about we go get some candies, or something?” offered Su while Ron struggle to piece things together. “Come on.” She yanked him a bit more aggressively toward Honeydukes.

“Leaves us, then,” Harry sighed, looking oddly giddy.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice,” Kit said, grinning. “Cho was staring at you the entire time and you were trying not to look at her.”

Harry turned slightly pink. “Alright, Kit, why don’t you go off and see Malfoy now…”

“Only if you go catch up with Cho!”

Sirius would have been proud to know that they, in fact, went to do just that.


	43. Chapter 43

**When Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four was put out, Kit had the urge to spit on it.**

The entire weekend, Kit had had a good time with Draco. They’d finished their assignments early, and had spent an almost ungodly amount of time sneaking around to either talk or snog, sometimes both in one night. They hadn’t gone further, but they were both clearly enjoying their little arrangement.

Come Monday morning, all of that had gone to shit.

_BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS_

_All student organisations, societies, teams, groups and dubs are henceforth disbanded._

_An organisation, society, team, group or club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students._

_Permission to re‐form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge)._

_No student organisation, society, team, group or club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor._

_Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an organisa‐tion, society, team, group or club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled._

_The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty‐four._

_Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor_

“Bull-fucking-shit,” hissed Kit. “This is just— ugh— fuck.”

“Someone blabbed!” Su deduced. “I bet it was Zacharias! I still have that bottle of Firewhiskey— I’ll ask the Weasley twins for their stick and I’ll—”

“No, it can’t have been him,” Kit said, looking back as he passed near them. “Hermione jinxed the list. There would be a distinguishing mark on whoever did it. So be on the look for that.”

But they’d gone to breakfast, and seen no one with a mark. Kit had looked over at Hermione from their table, and they’d had a silent exchange to convey that they’d discuss this in class. 

As soon as she got to History of Magic, she dropped down beside Hermione, and a very cross looking Harry and Ron.

“What’s wrong with you two?” Kit asked.

“Apparently, Umbridge’s decree includes Quidditch teams,” Harry said in annoyance. “Angelina has to ask her for permission to re-form the team. I have to be on my best behavior now, so she says yes.”

“Bloody hell… let’s hope Roger’s status as Head Boy helps. Plus, Alicia’s Head Girl and she’s involved in Quidditch… we should be okay… I think.” She turned to Hermione. “So far, no one’s got any markings, so I’m assuming it wasn’t someone from our group?”

“No, I suppose not. But it’s infuriating… we need to be extra careful.”

Kit groaned. “To be thinking of this while in this godforsaken class… I’ll just die.”

She flopped her head onto her desk, tuning out as Professor Binns went on about the giant wars. She didn’t look up until a sudden rush of movement happened behind her. When she looked up, Hedwig was on Harry’s desk, her feathers ruffled and out of place. 

“What happened to her?” she asked immediately. “Oh Merlin— she’s hurt. Harry— you’ve got to take her to Grubbly-Plank.”

Harry immediately looked up at their ghostly Professor, who still hadn’t noticed that Hedwig was even in the room. “Professor Binns? I’m not feeling well.”

Professor Binns raised his eyes from his notes, looking amazed, as always, to find the room in front of him full of people.

“Not feeling well?” he repeated hazily.

“Not at all well,” said Harry firmly getting to his feet with Hedwig concealed behind his back. “I think I need to go to the hospital wing.”

“Yes,” said Professor Binns, clearly very much wrong‐footed. “Yes... yes, hospital wing... well, off you go, then, Perkins…”

Harry left, and Ron and Kit shared a look. “Honestly, he didn’t even need to tell him,” Kit mused. “Binns obviously didn’t see Hedwig even come in.”

“Who could have attacked her?” Ron asked. “Think it was a creature?”

Kit shook her head. “No. I know that there is always a possibility an owl could be attacked by numerous other creatures but this didn’t look like a creature, it looked like a spell.”

“How can you be sure?” asked Hermione. “You barely saw her wing.”

“Well, think about it, if it was a creature, there might be some blood, and I feel like it would have been a lot worse because of their predatory nature. She was sufficiently hurt to need to come find Harry, but not enough that she dropped down elsewhere. Alastor and I have been exchanging letters in code because we always sort of suspected that someone was reading the mail now, you know? Everyone in this school knows what Hedwig looks like because no one else has an owl that looks like that. Someone could be trying to read Harry’s mail.”

Hermione and Ron shared a concerned look. “Umbridge,” Ron said. “She obviously knows something is up, hence that new decree. She probably knows it had something to do with Harry.”

“This is really worrisome,” said Hermione, wringing her hands together. “I hope the letter wasn’t from Sirius. And if it was, then we’d better hope that it wasn’t anything obvious.”

Kit winced, and pulled out a sheet of parchment, as well as her quill and ink. “I’ll write Alastor in Muggle Studies.”

After the lesson, the trio made their way to Potions, where they were soon approached by Harry, who let them know Hedwig would be okay, and that the letter had been from Snuffles. Kit was pleased when Harry invited her to come by and see him. 

Once she entered the classroom, she went in to sit down at her bench, where Draco was already waiting for her. “Maddening, isn’t it?” he breathed, nodding toward where Umbridge could be seen, lurking in the corner of the classroom. Kit scrunched her nose up. “Banned all the organizations… I wonder why.”

“I’ll tell you, I promise,” Kit said lowly. “Not yet, though, not until we figure a few things out.”

Draco nodded. “Alright. Well… did you hear if your Quidditch team was allowed to reform? My teammates made me ask her, she said yes. I’m sure she’ll accept Davies when he makes his plea.”

“I dunno, I didn’t see Roger today. I hope she says yes…”

The two faced the front when Snape arrived, closing the dungeon door with a bang. “You will notice,” announced Snape in a sneering voice, “that we have a guest with us today.”

Kit refrained from looking at Umbridge. 

“We are continuing with our Strengthening Solution today. You will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson; if correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend. Instructions on the board. Carry on.” 

For the first half hour, nothing happened. Draco and Kit worked diligently on their potion, every now and then looking up to see that Umbridge was simply taking notes. Kit wondered how evil the woman could be to have attacked an innocent owl. 

“Well, the class seem fairly advanced for their level,” Umbridge said after Snape stopped to peer at Dean Thomas’s potion. “Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus.”

Kit and Draco grimaced at each other, as if wanting to make a comment, but refraining from it. 

“Now... how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?” Umbridge asked when Snape turned to face her.

“Fourteen years,” Snape said, his voice more monotone than usual. 

“You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?” 

“Yes,” said Snape quietly.

“But you were unsuccessful?”

Snapeʹs lip curled. “Obviously”

“And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?”

“Yes,” said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked very angry. Kit, for once, felt kind of bad for him, but the thought fluttered away when she remembered that he was still a bully when he had the choice not to be. Even so, she was keen to witness Snape one-upping Umbridge. 

“Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?” 

“I suggest you ask him,” said Snape sharply.

“Oh, I shall,” said Umbridge, with a sweet smile.

“I suppose this is relevant?” Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed.

“Oh yes,” said Professor Umbridge, “yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers’— er— backgrounds.” She then turned away to question Pansy and Theo regarding the lessons.

Kit supposed it could have been worse. She allowed herself to ignore Professor Burbage’s sermon on electricity for the fifth time that term so far since most were struggling to comprehend it (which made sense, honestly, it was a terrible thing to try and learn with no Muggle upbringing). With her free time, she wrote a pretty length letter to Moody. By the time the period ended, she sprinted to the Owlery and sent the owl off before going to their last class of the day with Umbridge herself. Both she and Harry made a point to keep their tempers under control, and made it through the class without so much as an angry look. 

Even so, it didn’t work in their favor.

“Are you kidding me?” Kit breathed when she saw Roger that evening. “Fuck— what did Ravenclaw ever do to offend her? Shit… this might be my fault.”

“No, I doubt that,” Roger said. “So far, only the Slytherins were given permission. Not the Hufflepuffs or Gryffindors, or us. She’s just got a vendetta against anyone who isn’t from her House. It’s ridiculous.” He then lowered his voice. “Alicia Spinnet took the liberty of telling me about that er— meeting at Hogsmeade, you know.”

At first, Kit’s stomach had done a somersault. They were done for. Roger would tell Flitwick, Flitwick would tell McGonagall and they wouldn’t be able to meet—

“I was wondering if the boys and I are welcome to go,” he said, making Kit stare up, stunned. “Norman, Orion, and I would like to learn from Harry. We all feel our curriculum was significantly terrible during our time here and if he can teach us the stuff we’ll need when we graduate… well, we want to be a part of it.”

Kit beamed up at him. “Are you sure? We’d love to have you!”

“Yes, of course. That way, Angelina and I can structure Quidditch practices to make room for the meetings, then Alicia and I can back you all up, and make sure the prefect rounds don’t conflict either. You all deserve to be a part of this without worrying. And if us older students can be included, it’ll be nice too.”

Kit pulled Roger into a hug, sighing happily. “Yes! A million times yes. I’ll tell Hermione— she’ll be thrilled. We’ll let you know when we decide on the first meeting, alright?”

In a much better mood despite not being able to re-form their Quidditch team, Kit had skipped over to the Gryffindor Common Room that evening to meet Sirius. She had arrived around ten, when the Weasley twins and Lee were still testing some of their products. She had taken the time to relay to Hermione her conversation with Roger. After midnight, the Common Room was finally deserted, and Kit went to kneel by the fire, where she soon after caught a glimpse of Sirius.

“Hi!” she said brightly, beaming down at him. Sirius offered her a smile. “Hello there, Kit, I was wondering if you’d be here.”

Hermione, Ron, and Harry joined her, as well as Crookshanks, who purred as he tried to sniff Sirius. 

“How are things?” Sirius asked them. 

“Not that good,” said Harry, as Hermione pulled Crookshanks back to stop him singeing his whiskers. “The Ministryʹs forced through another decree, which means weʹre not allowed to have Quidditch teams—”

“Or secret Defense Against the Dark Arts groups?” said Sirius.

“Alastor relayed that message quickly,” huffed Kit, a bit surprised. 

“Well, that, and the fact that you all need to choose your meeting places more carefully. The Hog’s Head, I ask you—”

“That’s my fault,” Hermione admitted dejectedly. “Kit had recommended the Three Broomsticks, but since Professors go in there all the time....”

Kit shrugged as Sirius let out a small chuckle. “You’ve all got a lot to learn.”

“Who overheard us, then?” asked Harry.

“Mundungus, of course,” said Sirius, and when they all looked puzzled he laughed. “He was the witch under the veil.”

Kit, who didn’t even know who Mundungus Fletcher was, looked more confused than the others. “Wait, isn’t Mundungus a… a male name? No offense if it isn’t, but— you know what, nevermind, I don’t care if the Order’s got people crossdressing…”

“Why was he even there? demanded Harry. 

“Keeping an eye on you, of course!”

“Am I seriously still being followed?” 

“Yes, you are. And just as well, isn’t it, if the first thing youʹre going to do on your weekend off is organise an illegal defense group.”

“Blame Hermione and I for that,” Kit said, thinking Sirius was disappointed. But she soon realized he actually looked quite proud. 

“Why was Dung hiding from us anyway?” asked Ron, sounding disappointed. “Weʹdʹve liked toʹve seen him.”

“He was banned from the Hogʹs Head twenty years ago,” said Sirius, “and that barmanʹs got a long memory. We lost Moodyʹs spare Invisibility Cloak when Sturgis was arrested, so Dungʹs been dressing as a witch a lot lately... anyway... first of all, Ron— Iʹve sworn to pass on a message from your mother.”

“Oh yeah?” said Ron, sounding apprehensive.

“She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group. She says youʹll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She also advises Harry, Hermione, and Kit not to proceed with the group, though she accepts that she has no authority over any of them and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart. She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted youʹd all have been in real trouble, and she canʹt say it for herself because sheʹs on duty tonight.”

“On duty doing what?” said Ron quickly.

“Never you mind, just stuff for the Order,” said Sirius. “So itʹs fallen to me to be the messenger and make sure you tell her I passed it all on, because I donʹt think she trusts me to.”

Ron groaned. “So what, you want me to say Iʹm not going to take part in the Defense group?”

“Me? Certainly not!” said Sirius, looking surprised. “I think itʹs an excellent idea!”

Harry and Kit looked up eagerly. “You do?”

“Of course I do! Dʹyou think your father and I wouldʹve lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge? Why, I recall he, Alana, and I took a stand against an unfair Professor once and got the whole class to give him the silent treatment.”

Kit beamed at the mention of her sister, but Harry was still unable to fathom the fact that Sirius was encouraging them. “But— last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks—” 

“Last year, all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!” Sirius sounded slightly impatient. “This year, we know thereʹs someone outside Hogwarts whoʹd like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!”

“And if we do get expelled?” Hermione asked, a quizzical look on her face.

“Hermione, this whole thing was your idea!” said Harry, staring at her, making Kit stifle a snort.

“I know it was. I just wondered what Sirius thought,” she said, shrugging.

“Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue,” said Sirius.”

“Hear, hear,” said Harry and Ron enthusiastically.

“So,” said Sirius, “how are you organising this group? Where are you meeting?”

“Not sure about that yet,” Kit said. “As of a couple hours ago, we have three new members, and that puts us at… thirty seven.”

“Blimey, and I was going to suggest the Shrieking Shack,” Sirius said, looking impressed. “Hmm… there used to be a pretty roomy secret passageway behind that big mirror on the fourth floor, you might have enough space to practise jinxes in there.”

“Fred and George told me itʹs blocked,” said Harry, shaking his head. “Caved in or something.” 

“Oh…” said Sirius, frowning. “Well, Iʹll have a think and get back to—” 

He broke off. His face was suddenly tense, alarmed. He turned sideways, apparently looking into the solid brick wall of the fireplace.

“Sirius?” said Harry anxiously.

But he had vanished. “What’s going on?” Kit asked. “Why did he— holy crap!”

She and Hermione leapt back immediately when a hand appeared in the flames, as if trying to catch a hold of something. It was a stubby, short-fingered hand covered in ugly old fashioned rings, and with a sickening feeling, the four bolted away from the fire and to their respective dormitories.

Kit didn’t stop running for what felt like an eternity. She had sprinted out from behind the Fat Lady’s portrait. She turned hall after hall, intending to make it to the Ravenclaw Common Room and hopefully not be caught.

But the route felt longer. She was panicking. Had Umbridge known Sirius was there, talking to them? Or did she only know that some random person had been using the fireplace? A terrible feeling grumbled through her stomach. Umbridge must have known. Somehow, she knew exactly who had been there, and it was only a matter of time before they got caught.

As luck would have it, Kit tripped. 

She thought she could catch herself, but instead, she sprawled onto the floor, landing onto her wrist with a sickening crunch, and nearly letting out a piercing cry. She bit her lip so hard she drew blood, not wanting anyone to hear her. Just her bloody luck— a broken wrist. A broken wrist on the same hand where a faded but present scar could remind her of Umbridge, and her stupid quills.

Fuck. Fucking fuck, thought Kit. She let out a soft squeak of pain as she rolled onto her back. There was a ringing in her ears as blood thumped powerfully around her wrist, which was bent at an ungodly angle. She whimpered as she sat up, but her legs shook too much for her to get up. Her knees pulsated, and she became aware of the fact that she had hit them too, and was bleeding.

She heard footsteps nearby and cursed. Who was on duty today? Who was about to catch her and possibly get her in trouble? She didn’t think it was Draco, that would be asking for too much. Would it be Hannah? Ernie? Anthony? It definitely wasn’t Hermione or Ron. That left—

“What the hell happened to you, Thompson?”

Kit looked up at Pansy Parkinson, who had her arms crossed over her chest. She looked exhausted. Her shift would be ending soon, she might just be in a good enough mood to write Kit a detention… 

Pansy, however, didn’t seem to be about to get her in trouble. She gazed at her wrist and winced. “Bloody Merlin— you’ve broken that. Go to see if Madam Pomfrey’s awake.”

Kit swallowed back a small sob, her eyes watering from the pain. “I...I can’t…” she began, though she stopped out of embarrassment when she realized how stupidly high pitched her voice sounded. “C-Can’t… can’t get up.”

It seemed Pansy debated between helping her and leaving her there, but at last, the Slytherin girl moved forward and leaned down, gripping Kit’s shoulders and pulling her up. Kit tried to stand, but her legs buckled out under her, and she held her arm to her chest, allowing a small cry to escape her lips. Pansy tried to hold her steady, but simply moved her back to the ground.

“Wait here,” Pansy said. “I’ll get Draco. He has a thing for carrying you, or whatever…”

Before Kit could thank her, Pansy was gone, having dashed down the hall, perhaps to avoid any other exchange with Kit. She didn’t even have to wait that long— within what felt like five minutes, Draco had made his way around the corner, and picked her up, making her squeak when her arm pressed onto his chest.

“Sorry, Kit Kat,” he said, his voice quivering with worry. “Come on— to the Hospital Wing we go.”

“T-Thank you,” she said softly, still unable to rid herself of the panic in her mind. “D-Did you see U-Umbridge?” 

“No, why? Did— did she break your wrist?”

“N-No, she didn’t… just…” she gulped. “I’ll explain it once we get there.”

Draco nodded, and held her protectively as he sped walked to the Hospital Wing. When they arrived, he set her down quickly and went to wake Madam Pomfrey, who seemed to have not been asleep yet considering how wide awake she looked. She set the wrist and handed Kit a potion, which she drank in one swift tip of the flask, setting it down after that. 

“Get some sleep now, Miss Thompson,” Madam Pomfrey said, yawning a bit. “Feel free to stay overnight. Both of you. But not on the same bed.”

Draco blushed. “O-Oh— well, I—”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Mr. Malfoy, I just don’t want her wrist accidentally being crushed again.”

That made both Draco and Kit turn red, and when the older woman left, Kit cleared her throat a bit awkwardly. “Thank you,” she sighed. 

“Now, are you going to tell me what that was all about?”

“Yes,” Kit said. She didn’t plan to tell him about the Order and especially not the Defense group they were starting, because it could be troublesome for him to know. But he basically knew about Sirius already, so she went ahead and told him about the hand in the fire, followed by her correspondence with Alastor Moody. Finally, she briefly mentioned how Hedwig had been attacked, though that really was just to make a connection between her two major points.

Draco furrowed his eyebrows. “Something is up. Umbridge attacking that owl… they must think Potter knows something. Next time maybe try not to use that fireplace? You could probably do with sneaking into the Slytherin Common Room, I doubt Umbridge would monitor that one. As for that owl, well, next time, if Potter writes to… er… Snuffles… or should I call him my Uncle? Or cousin? I don’t know… but next time he writes to him, maybe you should send the letter using Brutus. Umbridge wouldn’t dare attack that bird, she knows it’s mine, she saw me sending a letter to my mother with him.”

“Are you sure, Draco?” Kit asked, touched he’d offered.

“Yes, of course, I don’t mind. He’s half your owl. Attacking any animal like that is just flat out diabolical.”

Kit smiled, and with her good hand, pulled him in, kissing him firmly on the lips. “You are the best, Draco,” she whispered.

Draco turned pink. “Well, I try to be.”

Kit wished that he could always be this sweet. She wished nothing could ever corrupt him or hurt him. She wished he’d never have to get dragged into a problematic situation. That he could be safe from the bigger issue at hand in their world. 

But apparently, that was asking for too much.


	44. Chapter 44

**The following days were better for Kit, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was on its way to them.**

Of course, something bad was already there. Umbridge. 

She had had her wrist mended, and had immediately written to Alastor Moody to let him know to warn Sirius. She had relayed this message to Hermione, Harry, and Ron, who agreed to lay low for a bit. They assured Kit they’d take care of finding a meeting place for their group, as all were still interested.

Therefore, she hadn’t had much to do. Roger had managed to convince Umbridge to give them back permission to play Quidditch, which thankfully occurred just a few days before the Gryffindors, and a day after the Hufflepuffs. Thus, outside of practice, schoolwork, and patrolling with her fellow prefects on nights when she and Draco didn’t sneak off to snog, there was not much to do. 

She had remained quiet in classes. Finished her assignments. Kept to just her friend group and not made a big deal of anything. She didn’t want to provoke Umbridge in the slightest.

And yet, there was a chill down her spine every time she roamed the halls. That imminent feeling of danger and uncertainty. Something felt horribly wrong. It was something she could not explain. 

Thus, on one evening when she and Ron had had their prefect patrol together, she told him of her concerns, and with brows furrowed, the redhead pursed his lips.

“Something strange is going on,” he admitted. “The other day after our Quidditch practice, Harry’s scar hurt. Don’t tell him I told you, please. But he said something about how he could sort of… tell what You Know Who was feeling. And when I saw Su, she confided in me that she had some inexplicable nightmare that same night. I remember last time you told us about the bad feeling before the Triwizard, and Cedric ended up dead. It seems a lot of you are getting signs.”

“You must keep Harry at bay,” pleaded Kit. “You and Hermione. Make sure he stays in control when around Umbridge, and perhaps Snape too. Draco and Blaise are making sure I don’t lash out. But we must be careful. Things are not… looking well. Something is upon us.”

Ron scratched the back of his head. “It’s probably nothing, but I think Harry’s started having some sort of nightmares, too. The other night I went to the loo and when I came back, he was kind of muttering in his sleep. I didn’t tell him yet that I overheard.”

Kit clasped her hands together. “I’ll write to Alastor again, then. I’ll ask if he can give me any information on what the Order is doing. I recall you being worried when Snuffles mentioned your mother was on duty. I wish to know what they are planning.”

“I’d very much like to know, too. D’you reckon it’s still a good idea for us to go through with this Defense group? Hermione was being uncertain about it, and because Harry was there, I kind of rubbed in how we should do it— it was her idea anyway. But I can’t help but wonder if maybe she’s right about being uncertain. She said she felt like that because Snuffles supported it so heavily.”

“Well, you know Snuffles. He’d support any challenge of authority. And none of us really mind that. But with such premonitions…”

Ron shifted awkwardly as they kept walking. “Has Malfoy said anything? Maybe his father knows something.”

“No, actually. I was surprised to know they haven’t exchanged letters in a bit. Just between Draco and his mother. My godfather was never one to be so open about communication unless he needed something. So far, there isn’t any inkling of what’s wrong. But it makes me wonder what’s afoot, especially since we’ve all sort of felt something…”

“Definitely write to Moody about this,” said Ron. “You and him seem to be becoming friends. I’m sure he’d trust you.”

Kit shrugged. “Yes, I suppose he might trust me but I doubt he’d consider himself my friend. He’s older than my father, and he dislikes him. Why would he want to befriend the daughter of said man?”

“Moody’s got respect for you, Kit. And I suppose he already feels badly for what the impostor did to you, using his face. He might feel he owes you.”

“Perhaps. But a debt and friendship aren’t the same.” She let out a small laugh. “Can you imagine Alastor and I joking around as pals?”

Ron smirked. “No, you’re right, I can’t imagine that. He’s so gruff all the time.” He then paused, running his tongue over his lips and tucking his hands in his pockets. “Has er— has Su said anything about me?”

“Nothing directly, but I can see the eyes you two make at each other,” said Kit with a grin. “You Quidditch fanatics come together quite nicely. Plus, she watches you all practice in secret, I know that for certain.”

“Not so secretly— Angelina knows she watches but she doesn’t seem to mind. She’s fed up with me, you know, I’m ruddy terrible at Keeper…”

“Oh, Ron, you must have more faith in yourself. You’ve never played Quidditch on a team, it’s just different. Doesn’t make you bad.”

Ron let out a loud huff. “Yeah… I suppose it’s just weird. I can always hear the twins snickering something or another. I’m the youngest brother— they’ve always teased me. It’s different with Ginny, she’s so strong and independent and I’m… I guess I feel inexperienced and dull.”

“You are neither of those things. You shouldn’t compare yourself to your siblings. I have none, so I can’t pretend to understand how agonizing it is to be one in a bunch that have all tried to make names for themselves. But you’re Ronald bloody Weasley. Well— technically your middle name is Bilius, but ‘bloody’ will have to suffice for the point I’m making.”

Ron chuckled, and Kit hurried to finish. “You’ve stood alongside Harry for ages. You’ve done things none of your brothers have. I haven’t met them all but you’re all unique in your own ways. You stand out amongst them either way— none of them can say they’re Harry Potter’s best friend, you know. That they beat McGonagall’s chess set as a first year. I mean, I still can’t play chess to save my life— I’m terrible at it! And I would have paid a fortune to have been part of your friend group since first year if it meant I’d have gotten to accompany you all on a search for the Philosopher’s Stone and into the Chamber of Secrets. You’ve done a lot to be proud of. Quidditch will be a breeze. You’ve just got to believe in yourself.”

The redhead blushed. “Thanks Kit,” he said quietly, looking flustered. “No wonder you’ve got Malfoy all smiley nowadays. Everyone’s noticed the change in him. The first years aren’t so scared of him anymore. I had duty with him the other night and he didn’t make any snide remarks, even though it was just the two of us.”

“He’s changing,” she sighed happily. “I’m pleased for that.” She then nudged him in the side. “Well, I should go write Alastor. Let me know when you all decide a date and place to meet.”

They bade each other farewell, and Kit got to work immediately. Moody hadn’t yet replied to her other letter, likely because he was busy with whatever the Order was up to. But she drafted another quickly and sent it off the next morning with Brutus, who was pleased to have something to do. 

Later that evening, she was pleased to hear from the trio that they had in fact arranged a meeting for that night.

“They said eight o’clok, seventh floor opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by trolls,” said Kit when she relayed the message to her Ravenclaw peers, and later Blaise. She wished she could tell Draco, but all she told him was that soon, she’d let him know everything. He didn’t mind, but simply asked for a snog in return, which she of course, happily gave to him.

At ten to eight, she, Blaise, and her usual group made their way up to the said location, uncertain what they’d find, but definitely not having been expecting a highly polished door with a brass handle.

“That wasn’t there before!” said Mimi. “I’ve walked by this place loads of times and never before had I seen such a thing.”

The group went inside, and found that all of the Gryffindors in their year had already arrived. Together, they all looked around at the spacious room, lit with flickering torches. The walls were lined with wooden bookcases, and at the far end of the room, there were shelves with several different sorts of dark detectors that Kit had only ever seen in Moody’s office last year when the impostor had dragged her in alongside Harry. Rather than there being chairs, there were fluffy silk cushions on the floor. They gasped in awe, going closer to the bookshelves. They were filled with books that would be absolutely perfect for them to teach themselves with. At least a hundred volumes that would come in handy. 

By the time eight o’clock arrived, everyone who had stated they’d participate was there, occupying every last cushion that lined the floor. Once Harry had seemingly taken attendance, he went to the door and locked it. 

“Well,” he said, sounding nervous. “This is the place weʹve found for practice sessions, and youʹve— er— obviously found it okay.”

“Itʹs fantastic!” said Cho, and several people murmured their agreement.

“Itʹs bizarre,” said Fred, frowning around at it. “We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then.”

“Hey, Harry, whatʹs this stuff?” asked Dean from the rear of the room, indicating the Sneakoscopes and the Foe‐Glass.

“Dark detectors,” said Harry, stepping between the cushions to reach them. “Basically they all show when Dark wizards or enemies are around, but you donʹt want to rely on them too much, they can be fooled… well, anyway, I’ve been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and— er—” He looked at Hermione, who was raising her hand. “What, Hermione?”

“I think we ought to elect a leader,” said the brunette. 

“Harryʹs leader,” said Cho at once, looking at Hermione as though she were mad. 

“Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly,” said Hermione, unperturbed. “It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So— everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?”

Everyone put their hand up. Kit was pleased to see Roger, Norman, and Orion were raising their hands especially high in competition with the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan. 

“Er— right, thanks,” said Harry. “And— what, Hermione?”

“I also think we ought to have a name,” she said brightly, her hand still in the air. “It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, donʹt you think?”

“Can we be the Anti‐Umbridge League?” said Angelina Johnson hopefully. 

“Or the Ministry of Magic are Morons Group?” suggested Fred.

Kit quite liked the suggestion, but Hermione didn’t enjoy it. “I was thinking more of a name that didnʹt tell everyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside meetings.”

“The Defence Association?” said Cho. “The DA for short, so nobody knows what weʹre talking about?”

“Yeah, the DAʹs good,” said Ginny. “Only letʹs make it stand for Dumbledore's Army, because thatʹs the Ministryʹs worst fear, isnʹt it?”

There was a good deal of appreciative murmuring and laughter at this, but not from Kit’s end.

“Are we sure that’s a good idea?” she said rather loudly. “It’s not like we have Dumbledore’s approval, and I for one, think it may be too risky to add the word ‘army’ into it. As much as I like the idea for the reasons Ginny stated, I think perhaps it might pose a problem in the future.”

Hermione kneeled up on her cushion. “Well then, let’s vote. All in favor of the DA?” Mostly everyone raised their hands, except Kit and a few others who shared her sentiments. Majority ruled, however, and ‘Dumbledore’s Army’ became the official name.

Kit couldn’t shake the bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that came when Hermione wrote the letters onto the parchment they had signed. 

“Right,” said Harry at last, ʹ”hall we get practising then? I was thinking, the first thing we should do is Expelliarmus, you know, the Disarming Charm. I know itʹs pretty basic but Iʹve found it really useful—”

“Oh, please,” said Zacharias Smith, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. “I donʹt think Expelliarmus is exactly going to help us against You Know Who, do you?”

“Iʹve used it against him,” said Harry quietly. “It saved my life in June. But if you think itʹs beneath you, you can leave.”

No one dared to speak or move. Not even Zacharias. 

“Okay,” said Harry, “I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practice.”

Blaise immediately made his way over to Hermione, while Su went in Ron’s direction. Terry and Anthony seemed to have decided to partner up in terms of bets, and Kit went over to Mimi. 

“Those two love challenging each other,” she huffed. “I swear, I’m surprised they haven’t gone bankrupt.”

“They might one day if they’re not careful. Who knows,” said Kit. Harry gave the instructions for them to start practicing, and the girls fired at each other, managing to be simultaneously disarmed, though Kit’s was mostly due to the fact that she jabbed so hard, her own wand cluttered out of her hand. All around the room, wands flew into the air, missed spells hit the shelves. 

The girls took a few more turns on each other, refining their technique, before switching with Terry and Anthony. Anthony and Kit smirked at each other, up for the task, but Anthony was not as fast as Kit especially after she practiced on Mimi. When they rotated again, Terry nearly bested Kit, but she was improving.

It seemed the same could be said for others. Harry was right to have asked them to review the basics. There was a lot of shoddy spellwork and for others, it was just that they needed to practice. They’d never been taught to refine their movements, just learning enough to pass exams. Some students were doing very well against weaker opponents, but others were a nice match for each other and were having to try much harder. That made for good experience. 

“Okay, stop!” Harry shouted somewhere behind Kit. “Stop! STOP!”

Not everyone heard, however, but it seemed that the Room of Requirement had fit Harry’s needs. The boy darted and clasped a whistle in his hand, blowing it hard enough to alert everyone that they needed to lower their wands. 

“That wasnʹt bad,” said Harry, “but thereʹs definite room for improvement. Letʹs try again.”

Another rotation. Kit and Blaise faced off, and to her surprise, Kit managed to disarm Blaise quicker than he could finish his spell. She then moved onto Roger, who obviously bested her by casting the spell nonverbally.

“Can’t wait to learn those properly,” said Kit, brushing some strands of her hair out of her face. “Nonverbal spells will come in handy.”

“Ah, why don’t you try it now?” suggested Roger. “It isn’t that difficult, you’ve just really got to concentrate. Shout it in your head without speaking. I’ll go easy this time and not put up a fight. If you manage it, then I can try and oppose you.”

Kit liked that idea. Roger lowered his wand and held it loosely at his side. Kit narrowed her eyes and focused, thinking hard about making his wand fly out of his hand. She did in fact, shout the spell in her head, and did the exact movement, jabbing her wand in his direction.

“Very good, Kit,” said Roger happily when she made his wand speed off into the bookshelf. “Now, for some resistance. Takes some practice, but you’ve got it down already. See if you can beat my reflexes.”

She smirked, and when he returned and raised his wand, she tried to repeat what she’d done before, just faster. She was surprised when Roger’s wand flew out of his hand again. The seventh year beamed at her. “You learn quickly, Kit, no wonder McGonagall’s always teaching you new spells whenever you ask her to. Now…” he came closer and whispered in her ear. “Go surprise Norman. He’s rather good at nonverbals but I doubt he’ll be expecting you to try it.”

This sounded even more fun. She trotted over to Norman, who was having a fun time going against Alicia Spinnet. When Kit came over, Alicia went to take a turn with Lee, and Norman bowed playfully before Kit. “I’ve never dueled you before, Thompson,” the boy chuckled. “Always just in Quidditch. Let’s see if your reflexes for spells are as fast as they are on the pitch.”

Kit curtsied respectfully. “We’ll see about that, good sir.” They both raised their wands, and Kit went for it, quickly casting the spell and catching Norman sufficiently off guard, leading to his wand cluttering against the floor. 

“And you do nonverbals now?” he asked curiously, looking over to where Roger was smirking over at them. “Ah, well, I see the Captain put you up to it.”

“He said you’re good at nonverbals,” she teased. “I needed to see for myself.”

“You’re barely learning, I’m sure I could still best you. But considering how quickly you managed it, perhaps I should be scared.”

And so the night had progressed. Switching between partners, everyone was having a blast and honing their spellwork skills. By the end, it seemed everyone had accomplished it at least twice, properly. Harry blew his whistle at ten past nine to draw their attention back. 

“Well, that was pretty good,” he said, “but weʹve overrun, weʹd better leave it here. Same time, same place next week?”

“Sooner!” said Dean Thomas eagerly and many people nodded in agreement.

Angelina, however, said quickly “The Quidditch seasonʹs about to start, we need team practices too!”

“Letʹs say next Wednesday night, then,” said Harry, “we can decide on additional meetings then. Come on, weʹd better get going.”

He pulled out the Marauder’s Map, apparently checking for where the teachers were. He started dismissing students in groups of threes and fours. He, Hermione, Ron, and Kit were some of the last ones to leave. Kit, rather than head to the Ravenclaw Common Room, went toward the dungeons instead.

She found Draco fast asleep on the couch, several pieces of parchment on his chest. She smiled at the sight of him and went to tidy up to make sure he wouldn’t crush his homework, but she quickly noticed that the top parchment, in fact, did not consist of an assignment. It appeared to be a letter from Narcissa Malfoy.

Out of respect for Draco, Kit set it down quickly despite her burning curiosities, but the shuffling led him to wake up, and he caught her arm, startling her a bit.

“Oh, hi,” she squeaked.

“Kit Kat? Sorry, I fell asleep…” he sat up and rubbed his eyes. He looked down at the parchment and winced. “Oh. I suppose you saw the letter.”

“I didn’t read it,” she told him quickly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have moved anything.”

“No, don’t worry. I… I’d actually like you to read it. I think you should.”

Carefully, Kit brought the parchment back into her hands, shuffling to sit closer to Draco, who was still rubbing his eyes.

_“Draco,_

_This letter needs to be brief. Your father is restless, and you should expect notice from him soon. Your godfather is putting immense pressure on him. Something seems off about your godmother as well. Whatever you do, do not give him reason to visit Hogwarts and reprimand you. I fear he is planning to drag you into something for his own benefit. Please tell Kit to be careful. Something is stirring, and they are keeping me in the dark about it._

_Your loving mother.”_

“What?” gasped Kit. “That’s— that’s ominous.”

“I know. I’ve never known my mother to seem so… scared behind a letter. Have you heard anything?”

“No. I keep having a bad feeling about literally everything but this… this is really concerning. They’re going to hurt people… I know it.”

When she finished speaking, she noticed Draco had gone more pale than usual. His eyes were darting all over the contents of the letter, and he gulped shakily, his Adam’s apple bobbing several times as if he was afraid of what he was going to say next. 

“Draco, are you alright?” Kit asked nervously, putting her hand over his. He took her hand tightly, the ring he had on feeling colder than usual. He brought her palm up to his mouth and kissed it gently with quivering lips. 

“My mother is in danger, Kit,” he mumbled. “I know it. And I'm afraid. So I need to ask that you send this letter to Mad-Eye Moody, since you correspond with him.”

“Draco, are you sure? That might be risky. Your father could be pursued openly.”

“I don’t care. I won’t have my mother getting hurt. If they are planning something… and she gets caught in the crossfire…” He shook his head quickly, biting his lip hard. “Just write to him, please,” he said more urgently. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” said Kit, furrowing her eyebrows. “Draco, you’re really worrying me. Has… has your father already written to you?”

He shook his head quickly. “No, he hasn’t, don’t worry. Just… please go do what I asked. Now.”

Albeit very uncertain, Kit stood and took the parchment with her. When she left, Draco covered his mouth quickly. He hadn’t even really been asleep earlier. He had been calming down a panic that had been brought on when just hours before his mother’s letter arrived, he’d received a letter from his father. 

_“Draco,_

_This letter is spelled so that only you may see it. Your godfather and I have been discussing, and we believe we should begin preparing for the future. We cannot yet admit what we are planning amongst us, but I will ask that you remain alert for news from me. As a reminder, you are to appease Dolores Umbridge in any of her needs— she is with us and if you expect Katherine to remain alive and well, you will not tell her about this letter, and you will follow all instructions that follow. Be proud, my son. For today, your Kenneth and I decided that it is time for us to begin preparing a spot for you at our table alongside the Dark Lord._

_Father.”_

Draco swallowed back a terrified sob and shakily reached his hands up to cover the rest of his face. Just when he felt happy, just when he felt in place with who he was becoming, and this bomb was dropped on him. He hated his father, he hated that the Malfoys were loyal to the beast that’d murdered and agonized so many innocents. How could he possibly tell Kit that his father intended for him to become a Death Eater soon? That after all her kind words and teachings, he was being dragged back to what his father felt was right? Would she hate him? Would she shove him away? Would he never get the chance to have her affections again? He didn't want to be a bother to her just when he was seeing her so determined, clearly doing something she was passionate about. The last thing he wanted was for her to get caught in the crossfire and end up hurt. Would he ever be able to keep her safe? Would he lose her?

How he wished he had never been born a Malfoy.

_Comment for more :)_


	45. Chapter 45

**Neither Kit nor Draco wanted to be the one to bring up the fact that things felt different between them.**

Kit knew he was hiding something. He was curious about what she and Blaise were up to. Neither told the truth yet— it wasn’t the time for that.

Snogs became more desperate. Draco would hold her so close that sometimes she could scarcely breathe, and it was as though he was scared to let go of her. She sometimes had to dig her nails into his arm to urge him to loosen his hold, but even then, his grip was like iron. She’d tug his hair a bit harder than usual, and that'd usually keep him from kissing her bruisingly hard. The places they snuck off to were getting more and more public each time, increasing the risk of them getting caught. Neither cared. It de-stressed them and with lips locked together, they didn’t have to give each other strange looks or debate whether to ask for the truth or not. They spoke normally for the most part, but tension was present.

Both had tried to occupy their minds heavily, doing something or another to avoid what was sure to be a delicate conversation.

Draco had been engrossed in Quidditch, practically now a co-captain with Graham Montague, who was more than pleased to let the younger male offer suggestions. If anyone on the Slytherin team knew strategy— it was Draco. Montague wasn’t the brightest, but Marcus Flint had graduated at the end of Draco’s third year, and when Quidditch season was cancelled the following two terms due to the Triwizard Tournament, they’d received no word from Flint regarding the new Captain, therefore Snape had placed the burden on Montague, who was the oldest on the team. 

Draco had to admit, he wasn’t pleased with the choice— he’d have preferred either Adrian Pucey or Cassius Warrington as Captain, since they at least cared to _try_ and strategize. Neither boy was exceptionally gifted either, but it might have saved Draco the burden of creating and editing plays for Montague’s sake. He missed his old teammates from before, as well. Flint was ruthless but at least he joked about and made practices fun. Peregrine Derrick and Lucian Boyle had just graduated, and although they were mediocre Beaters, they were better than the replacements Montague chose— Crabbe and Goyle. Draco felt sometimes like he was the only one who tried to play Quidditch fairly. Sure, his temper got in the way before quite often, but he never acted out during practice. The other males did. Miles Bletchley, the Keeper, was always degrading the other teammates and encouraging them to act foul against any opponent. Truly, it bothered him. He and Kit had learned to play Quidditch with professional influence, since Kenneth Thompson had played in the big leagues back in his day. But now, everyone was sloppy.

He hoped to be captain next year. He knew neither Pucey, Warrington, nor Bletchley wanted the leadership role, not when they were going to be seventh years and free to fool around as they wished. None of them had ever taken Quidditch seriously enough. Draco felt he deserved the captaincy, to be the one in charge. He could certainly do with reforming their behavior. He'd heard Montague bragging about how he heard Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet commenting on how bad of a Keeper Ron Weasley was. He hadn't participated when Montague asked for suggestions on how to distract the redhead during the match, but he hadn't exactly stopped the Captain from turning into a choir director, either. He felt ashamed that he didn't have the guts to stand up, but his father's threat was in the back of his mind, and rather than do anything, he remained silent. 

Kit, meanwhile, was diligently helping Hermione with the logistics of Dumbledore’s Army. The Ravenclaw refused to call it anything other than ‘the DA’ out loud, but even so, she was a big help to the Gryffindor. Hermione had asked Kit to help make a lesson list to inspire Harry, since Kit was well versed in more advanced spells and had been practicing her nonverbal magic. Harry had implemented many of her suggestions, including the Impediment Jinx, the Reductor Curse, and definitely more shielding and disarming practices. Additionally, Hermione had discovered something called a Protean Charm, which Kit had vaguely heard her father mention once. Putting their heads together, the girls had studied until they had devised a plan to fashion it into a tool for deciding on meeting dates. It had been quite complicated, but Kit had managed to grasp the concept just a few days before Hermione, which made it easier for them to mass create several fake Galleons that would function as their communication devices. 

“You see the numerals around the edge of the coins?” Hermione said, holding one up for examination at the end of their fourth meeting. The coin gleamed fat and yellow in the light from the torches. “On real Galleons thatʹs just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if youʹre carrying them in a pocket youʹll be able to feel them. We take one each, and when Harry sets the date of the next meeting heʹll change the numbers on his coin, and because Iʹve put a Protean Charm on them, theyʹll all change to mimic his.”

At first, no one had said anything. They looked rather shocked. Later, it had turned out that the other students were quite shocked that the two had been able to do the charm at all, since it was N.E.W.T. standard.

“I swear, you’re going to rule the world someday,” Roger had told Kit after that meeting, during one of their many early morning Quidditch practices. “A bloody Protean Charm— I can’t do that.”

“Neither can I!” said Orion. “Remember, Flitwick made me write an extra foot of parchment on the technique because I couldn’t fixate the movements.”

“You’re going to give Hermione Granger a proper rivalry for Head Girl,” teased Norman, nudging her.

“I don’t know if I want to be Head Girl,” said Kit, scrunching her nose up. 

“You’d have too much work, since I expect you’ll be Quidditch Captain the next two years,” said Cho with a grin, ruffling her hair.

At least, everything seemed to be going well, despite the fact that Kit felt her and Draco’s connection weakening. Cho seemed happier than before, which helped put Kit in a good mood during practices. Their new team members were fitting in seamlessly, and the lot of them were quite excited for the first match of the season, which would be Gryffindor versus Slytherin. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were quite excited, despite the tension between the other two Houses. They did their best to diffuse any arguments and tried to defend any of the players from unnecessary and rather rude attacks that were intended to cause harm. Draco did his best not to partake in such things, which at the very least kept him and Kit from drifting further apart. 

Even as October drew to a close, they did not discuss the clear secrecy taking place between them. The day of the first match came, and Kit had planted a very obvious kiss on Draco’s lips before he had left the Great Hall, whispering a quick ‘good luck’ after he’d brushed his hand over her lower back. He looked lost in thought, and a bit shaken up, but at this point, he always dodged her questions regarding how he was feeling, therefore she didn't think to inquire at all. She had no idea what could possibly be occupying Draco's mind. Kit thought perhaps the stress they both felt might go away once the season got underway and the two could play away their pent up anger.

That was until she noticed the badges that several members of Slytherin House were wearing.

_Weasley is our King._

“What the hell does that mean?” mumbled Kit, confused as she, Blaise, Hermione, Su, and Ginny made their way up to the stands to observe the match.

“I don’t know,” mumbled Blaise. “I haven’t been in the Common Room much.”

Kit, Su, and Ginny shared a curious look. Of course he hadn’t been there often— he and Hermione had been spending almost every day in the library together until quite late, whenever there wasn’t a DA meeting. Since neither was on a Quidditch team, they got more time to spend together while most of their friends were at practice. Ginny and Su often spied and relayed messages to Kit about how they seemed to be getting closer, but as far as any of them knew, neither Blaise nor Hermione had yet gotten cozy.

When the match began, Kit sensed that things were going to go terribly. She was noticing more and more of those badges— even almost all of the Slytherin Quidditch team had them on, minus Draco. She could hear giggles, murmurs, some of them due to Lee Jordan’s commentary, as per usual with his constant jokes. The match wasn’t even properly underway when she started to hear the oddest thing— singing. She didn't think it could possibly be the Frog Choir cheering for a match, they hardly ever made themselves known…

_“Weasley cannot save a thing, He cannot block a single ring, Thatʹs why Slytherins all sing: Weasley is our King._

_“Weasley was born in a bin He always lets the Quaffle in Weasley will make sure we win Weasley is our King.”_

“That’s awful!” cried Su, looking downright furious once they all started realizing what it was they were singing.

Absolutely everything went downhill from there. Kit was hardly paying attention to Lee’s commentary— she was desperately trying to focus on the movements, on the plays, she was trying to catch any slip ups that might mean a weakness her team could use to their advantage. But the Slytherins persisted, much to the group’s dismay. 

_“Weasley is our King, Weasley is our King, He always lets the Quaffle in Weasley is our King.”_

“Seriously, have they nothing better to do?” snarled Ginny, crossing her arms and leaning back. She ignored the fact that Michael Corner was now sitting beside her. Even Kit and Su were not really paying attention to their other Ravenclaw friends that’d joined them in the seats— both were trying immensely hard to actually focus on the match, which was becoming near impossible. 

“This is so unfair,” said Su angrily as Warrington grasped the Quaffle and sped toward Ron, who was clearly listening to the awful song coming from the vile students near his end of the pitch. “They’re distracting him on purpose!”

“—and itʹs Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, heʹs out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead—”

_“Weasley cannot save a thing, He cannot block a single ring...ʺ_

“—so itʹs the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper Weasley, brother of Beaters Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team—come on, Ron!” Lee bellowed. Kit and Su shot to their feet, thinking Ron was going to block it, but instead, all that was heard was the scream of delight that came from the Slytherinsʹ end: Ron had dived wildly, his arms wide, and the Quaffle had soared between them straight through Ronʹs central hoop.

“Slytherin score!” came Leeʹs voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below, “so thatʹs ten‐nil to Slytherin— bad luck, Ron.”

“Those prats!” hissed Su as the Slytherins began chanting even louder. 

_“WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN, HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN…_

_“WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN WEASLEY IS OUR KING…”_

Su let out a growl of frustration, covering her ears and tucking her head between her knees. Ginny huffed and leaned further forward into the crowd before her, as if desperately praying for her brother to tune out the jeering of the Slytherins. 

Kit couldn’t help but fixate on Draco. She couldn’t make out his facial expressions too well, but she at least could tell he wasn’t singing along, whereas Crabbe and Goyle were, while off to the side being downright stupid. The blond looked focused, but still, she could sense there was something distracting him. He was seemingly making aimless loops around the top of the pitch. Once he passed nearer to her, she noticed the same faraway look in his eyes as before. What was he thinking about at a time like this, other than finding the Golden Snitch?

“—and itʹs Warrington again,” bellowed Lee, trying to overpower the cruel song, “who passes to Pucey, Puceyʹs off past Spinnet, come on now, Angelina, you can take him— turns out you canʹt— but nice Bludger from Fred Weasley, I mean, George Weasley, oh, who cares, one of them, anyway, and Warrington drops the Quaffle and Katie Bell— er— drops it, too— so thatʹs Montague with the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Montague takes the Quaffle and heʹs off up the pitch, come on now, Gryffindor, block him!”

_“WEASLEY CANNOT SAVE A THING—”_

“—and Puceyʹs dodged Alicia again and heʹs heading straight for goal, stop it, Ron!”

_“THATʹS WHY SLYTHERINS ALL SING WEASLEY IS OUR KING.”_

Ron did not manage to stop it. Kit’s fury was rising and she felt her hands trembling hard at her sides. _Focus on the match, focus on the match._ But she no longer cared to keep up. It didn’t matter anymore to try and watch Harry and Draco looking for the Golden Snitch. She didn’t want to internalize the fact that Ron not only missed saving Pucey’s shot, but another two that came from Montague. She felt rage, her stress building up and making her want to sink her fists right into Bletchley’s face, because she could quite clearly see him beckoning the Slytherins to sing louder… 

“GET THE BLOODY SNITCH ALREADY, HARRY!” Ginny bellowed above the rest of their section. Su was wildly screaming something to Ron, but there was no way she could be heard over everyone else. 

Kit squirmed, and tried to calm her breathing, but it was becoming significantly harder. Her mind was wandering, thinking of what could possibly be bothering Draco so much that he looked out of place while playing Quidditch. She was wondering which curse would be best to try out on Montague. Her own bottled up stress was like a bomb ready to go off, all she needed to do was let it, but that would be risky, she didn't want to get in trouble. The last thing she needed right now was another letter from her father... 

“—and Katie Bell of Gryffindor dodges Pucey, ducks Montague, nice swerve, Katie, and she throws to Johnson, Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle, sheʹs past Warrington, sheʹs heading for goal, come on now, Angelina— GRYFFINDOR SCORE! Itʹs forty‐ten, forty‐ten to Slytherin and Pucey has the Quaffle—” 

Part of Kit’s anger dissipated now that the Gryffindors were gaining back, but she let her mind wander again, back to what she could try to say to get Draco to be honest with her, and suddenly the idiotic chanting filled her ears once more, echoing like mad around her mind... 

_“WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN, HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN, WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN—”_

That was it. Kit suddenly sprang up, whipping out her wand, and seriously debated blasting the entire Slytherin section to smithereens, but instead, without speaking a single word, cast a Silencing Charm that suddenly made the song stop entirely.

Blaise, Hermione, and Su looked up at her almost immediately, having seen her wand out. “Did you just—?” gasped Hermione when they looked across the way and saw the Slytherins looking around, thoroughly confused and patting their own throats, wondering why they could suddenly not be heard. With a triumphant grin, Kit sank down, feeling slightly tired, but very smug, especially when Blaise ruffled her hair.

“You sly little witch,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “You shut them right up!”

“It was either that or get in a fight,” said Kit a bit shakily as Hermione and Su continued to gaze at her in awe. “I could feel my temper really rising…”

“HARRY SAW THE SNITCH!” screeched Ginny suddenly, making the others completely forget what Kit had just done. They all looked toward where Harry was speeding toward a small glint of gold in the distance. 

“Fuck, Malfoy’s seen him!” cried Su, making Kit aware of the fact that Draco had indeed taken a very sharp and dangerous dive to catch up to Harry in order to get his hands on the Snitch first. The boys were soon neck and neck. Kit covered her mouth as she watched them both extend their arm out, ready to grasp it—

She barely discerned the fact that it was Harry rather than Draco that caught the Snitch. Because right as she saw Harry’s fist close around the little golden speck, Su let out a loud scream— a Bludger had collided with Harry’s lower back and sent him flying off his broom and slamming straight into the ground, which thankfully was only about five feet below him. 

Madam Hooch’s shrill whistle blew, and within seconds, Ginny, Kit, and Su had sprinted down to the pitch, to where Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had surrounded Harry, checking if he was alright. Kit would have made it there fastest, but she was stopped by Professor Flitwick, who'd been sitting in the section beside them.

"Miss Thompson," he squeaked, ignoring the students rushing about. "I couldn't help but notice— your wand was out, and the Slytherin section was silenced rather abruptly."

Kit's face immediately heated up. Crap. She was going to get in trouble. "Um... yes... sorry, they were just really getting on my nerves— I didn't think anyone would see."

To her surprise, the tiny Professor simply gave a clap of approval. "Brilliant," he said. "Twenty points to Ravenclaw. A nonverbal at your level— quite impressive, Miss Thompson. Now, I won't distract you further— go to your friends."

For a moment, Kit thought things would be fine. With a smile on her face, she thanked him and returned to shove past the crowd, making her way toward where she could see Angelina hugging Harry. Her stress had quite briefly dissipated, and it kept her from noticing that Draco was not far from Harry, his face white with fury... 

“Saved Weasleyʹs neck, havenʹt you?” she heard Draco snarl to Harry just before she reached the Gryffindor Seeker. “Iʹve never seen a worse Keeper... but then he was born in a bin... did you like Montague’s lyrics, Potter?”

Kit’s head whipped up, and she felt her body tense as Draco stormed toward Harry, who was apparently trying to ignore the Slytherin. The Ravenclaw hadn’t seen him look so mad in such a long time, it was almost confusing. 

“We wanted to write another couple of verses!” Draco called scathingly, not yet having seen Kit. “But we couldnʹt find rhymes for fat and ugly— we wanted to sing about his mother, see, and we couldnʹt fit in useless loser either— for his father, you know—”

In a desperate attempt, Kit tried to shove past the mass of Gryffindors that were trying to congratulate Harry. She could see the Weasley twins had just made their way forward. She had to reach Draco first, she had to make him stop before he kept at it— 

“—but you like the Weasleys, donʹt you, Potter?” Draco sneered loudly. “Spend holidays there and everything, donʹt you? Canʹt see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when youʹve been dragged up by Muggles, even the Weasleysʹ hovel smells okay—”

Too late. Kit instead had to lunge forward to yank George Weasley back, because he’d made a move toward Draco. “George, stop it!” she squeaked, seeing that Fred had been about to launch forward too, and was being held back by the three Gryffindor Chasers. 

“Or perhaps,” continued Draco, “you can remember what your motherʹs house stank like, Potter, and Weasleys pigsty reminds you of it—”

And just like that, they were practically back at square one. 

An elbow in the face, and Kit’s grip on George was lost. Crying in pain, she held her cheek, which would surely be bruised— he must not have realized it was her holding him back. In a blur, she noticed that George and Harry had both pounced onto Draco.

“NO!” she screamed, leaping up as Ginny and Su screamed for George and Harry to get off. Kit sped forward, daring to shove herself between the boys, not knowing whose fist collided with her face, but not caring either way. “GET OFF OF HIM! STOP IT— STOP IT!” 

“IMPEDIMENTA!”

Her body flew back, as did the bodies of Harry and George. Someone ran to her— it was probably Su, judging from the blur of blue that flashed before Kit’s suddenly very watery eyes. She could hear the girl saying something but she couldn’t quite make it out. Her vision turned toward where Draco was curled up on the grass, nose bloody, whimpers and moans exiting his mouth. 

Kit was no longer sure what exactly was happening. She could hear distorted voices in her ear. Her vision was still blurry. Someone was trying to pull her up but her legs weren’t letting them. She felt a sting as someone brought a cloth to her cheek— she could have sworn she saw it spotted with red, likely blood—

“KIT!”

She looked up toward the clearest of voices, belonging to Hermione. The Gryffindor girl was casting her a terrified look. “KIT! Can you hear us?! Blaise— I think she got hit a bit too hard!"

Some sound came out of her own mouth but it definitely didn’t make any sense. “Fuck, Malfoy’s stupid ring got her good in the face,” she heard someone else say— it sounded like Ginny. She felt another pair of arms loop around her and pull her up, and next thing, her face was shoved into someone’s chest, someone taller than her. They smelled familiar— it must be Blaise. 

Definitely Blaise, she decided, when the person tenderly moved her head to the side, where she could see Montague helping Draco up. He looked dazed, confused, and definitely not like the rageful animal she’d just seen him act like. Something was wrong with him, something was definitely making him lose his head. _What could it be? What had he not told her?_

The Slytherin looked over at Kit and his eyes widened once he registered the bruises and blood on her face, which she herself wasn't fully aware of yet. He wiped his nose hastily with his sleeve and made his way toward her, but the person holding her shoved him back before he could touch her.

“You’re not yourself,” she heard Blaise snarl as she felt someone else leading her away. “Get away from her.”

_How did we end up here?_

Whatever was ailing Draco was clearly eating him alive.


	46. Chapter 46

**As it turned out, Kit had received a mild concussion.**

Blaise had run her through the previous day’s events when she’d woken up in the morning, starving and quite confused.

“It was all Montague,” he grunted, rubbing his temples as Kit very slowly ate some porridge. “I heard Warrington telling Theo. He heard the Chasers talking about Ron, and he got the idea to distract him. It was mostly the Quidditch players that came up with the lyrics, and they passed it onto the other Slytherins just before the match.”

“Crap,” sighed Kit a bit weakly, slumping back in her bed. “Montague is an arse.”

“Tell me about it. Anyway— do you remember what happened afterward?”

“Not really… it’s kind of a blur.”

“Well, Draco snapped and reverted back to his rude self and got Harry and George to pounce on him. You went in there and tried to separate them. Draco must’ve accidentally hit you instead of one of them, because that cut on your face is from the ring he always wears. He’d already taken his gloves off. George elbowed you in the face, and I think Harry might’ve slammed you back hard enough just before Madam Hooch intervened, because Madam Pomfrey said you had a bit of a concussion.”

Kit let out a low curse. “Seriously, what the fuck. He’s hiding something from me! He’s been doing so much better, he hadn’t let his temper get to him in awhile but now he suddenly just exploded!”

“I don’t know what’s wrong. He won’t talk to me. He tried to shove his way in to visit you but I wouldn’t let him— he’s not calm enough and I don’t want him hurting you.”

“I don’t think he meant to—”

“Doesn’t matter if he meant to or not! That cut on your cheek came from him and until he can keep his mouth from spouting snarls about the Weasleys, I’m not going to let him in here.”

Reluctantly, Kit agreed. When she’d been released the next day, Blaise had had Su and Mimi come by to help her to her dormitory so that she could rest. She vaguely recalled hearing that Hagrid had returned over the weekend, but with Blaise insisting that she stay away from Draco, she had no choice but to wait until the week started to even see the blond in class again. 

“Kit Kat,” breathed Draco worriedly on Tuesday morning when he came beside her to walk toward Care of Magical Creatures. His nose looked a tad crooked, and there was a lingering bruise on his cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said simply. “What’s the matter with you, though?”

He sounded ashamed when he answered. “I-I don’t… I don’t know. Something just came over me.”

“I heard that Harry and the Weasley twins got lifelong bans from playing Quidditch, thanks to Umbridge.”

“That wasn’t my intention, really, I didn’t mean to stir that kind of trouble. I will apologize to them, I promise.”

Kit pursed her lips, nodding slowly. “Draco, you know you can talk to me, right? Because if you need to vent, I’m here for you.”

“I-I know that, and I appreciate it, but I don’t want to talk about anything.”

“I _know_ you, and I know that something is clearly on your mind.”

“It really isn’t anything to be concerned about…”

“How can I not be concerned? You haven’t lashed out like that in ages!”

“It was a moment of weakness, I really don’t think we need to get into it…”

“Well, maybe not, but I’m worried about—”

“Stop,” he said, more sharply than usual. She ceased speaking abrutply, and looked up at him, looking mildly annoyed. “Kit Kat, don’t worry about me, okay? Seriously. I already feel fucking terrible that I lost my head and I hurt you.”

“I just think that you need to talk with _someone_ ,” Kit insisted a bit more quietly. “Even if it isn’t me.”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone,” he mumbled coldly, his tone crueler than normal. “Stop insisting, damn it.” 

Kit felt her lips curl down into a frown, and purposely faced away from him. “Fine,” she muttered, shouldering her bag properly. “Fine, then don’t talk to anyone. No one’s forcing you to. I just thought maybe since something is clearly bothering you, it’d benefit you. But I suppose I’ll just stop fucking talking.”

Draco winced. “Kit Kat, I’m sorry,” he said more gently. “I don’t want to be rude to you—”

“Then don’t be!” she snapped. “We’ll just not talk! I was just making a suggestion!”

“I know, Kit, and I’m sorry that I was harsh, I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then that’s all you need to say! I don’t mean to pester you but I just really worry—”

“Then stop worrying!” he growled, making her instinctively step away from him. “I’m not entitled to telling you everything that is on my mind, okay, so take a hint, and stop being nosy!”

Almost immediately after, his expression changed to express guilt. “Shit— Kit Kat, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that, I just—”

“No, don’t bother explaining if it’s just going to anger you,” she said before storming away.

She trudged through the snow on her own, down to the edge of the Forbidden Forest near Hagrid’s hut. What was up with Draco? Did he not trust her? Was he tired of her? A million thoughts of insecurity were running through Kit’s head. Maybe he had realized that he really didn’t want her. Just what she’d always feared. 

She was thankful, at least, when she didn’t see Umbridge anywhere nearby. She greeted Hagrid cordially and went to stand near Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Blaise.

“Is he okay?” asked Kit, noticing the greenish yellow bruises on Hagrid’s face.

“Dunno, he wouldn’t tell us what that’s from,” said Ron. He looked sideways to the other end of the field when he saw Draco making his way toward the other Slytherins. Kit huffed and turned away.

“What happened?” asked Hermione, looking concerned.

“Draco’s being a prat again,” mumbled Kit. She gave Ron and Harry a sad look. “I’m beyond sorry about what happened at the match, that was uncalled for.”

“Not your fault,” said Harry immediately. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

“That wasn’t your fault, or George’s, so don’t worry about it. Damn, I wish there was something I could do to fix that idiotic Quidditch ban…”

“I wish there was something you could do that could just make me a better Keeper,” mumbled Ron dejectedly.

Hermione awkwardly shared a concerned look with Blaise when the other three looked down miserably at their own feet. 

“Weʹre workinʹ in here today!” Hagrid called when the majority of the class had gathered near him. Kit frowned when she saw a dead cow slung over his shoulder. “Bit more sheltered! Anyway, they prefer the dark.”

“They prefer the dark?” repeated Kit uncertainly as they began to follow Hagrid. “Did he say what the lesson is for today?”

“No,” said Hermione worriedly. “I tried to get him to follow lesson plans I made so he won’t get in trouble with Umbridge, but he wouldn’t listen! He doesn’t get how risky his lessons will look in her eyes.”

“I really hope she doesn’t show up to evaluate him today,” grunted Blaise. “But knowing our ruddy luck, she probably might…”

“Knock on wood,” sighed Kit, rapping her knuckles against a tree.

“Ready?” said Hagrid cheerfully, looking around at the class. “Right, well, Iʹve bin savinʹ a trip inter the Forest fer yer fifth year. Thought weʹd go anʹ see these creatures in their natural habitat. Now, what weʹre studyinʹ today is pretty rare, I reckon Iʹm probably the onʹy person in Britain whoʹs managed ter train ʹem.”

Several of the students shared apprehensive looks before following Hagrid on a nearly ten minute trek deep into the forest, where it was dark enough to make Kit feel nervous. Hagrid stopped in a very small clearing where the trees were still very close together, which led there to be no snow on the ground. He dropped the carcass on the floor. 

“Gather rounʹ, gather rounʹ,” Hagrid encouraged. “Now, theyʹll be attracted by the smell oʹ the meat but Iʹm goinʹ ter give ʹem a call anyway, ʹcause theyʹll like ter know itʹs me.” He then gave out an odd shrieking cry that made Kit instinctively grab onto Hermione’s arm for some sort of comfort. Nothing happened, and Hagrid let out a cry again. Kit heard a faint rustle, but didn’t see anything. Harry nudged her and pointed at a blank space between two gnarled yew trees, as if he were seeing something. Had she been stricken blind, or something? Maybe the concussion had been worse than what they'd told her... 

“Why doesn’t Hagrid call again?” asked Ron, looking as confused as Kit. Almost everyone in the class seemed to be asking the same question. 

“Oh, anʹ here comes another one!” said Hagrid proudly. Everyone but Harry and a few others blinked in response, still seeing nothing. “Now... put yer hands up, who can see ʹem?”

Harry and Neville were the first ones Kit noticed. She looked back, and saw a very worried Theodore Nott raising his hand as well, followed by Millicent Bulstrode, who quickly put her hand down as soon as Hagrid noted her for his tally. Kit looked back down to the cow carcass and felt a shiver run up her spine as bits of flesh began to disappear from it. Something was eating it, but almost all of them couldn’t see the creature doing it. 

“What’s eating it?” asked Parvati Patil in a very small voice. 

“Thestrals,” said Hagrid proudly. “Hogwarts has got a whole herd of ʹem in here. Now, who knows—?”

“But theyʹre really, really unlucky!” interrupted Parvati, looking alarmed. “Theyʹre supposed to bring all sorts of horrible misfortune on people who see them. Professor Trelawney told me once—”

“No, no, no,” said Hagrid, chuckling, “thaʹs jusʹ superstition, that is, they arenʹ unlucky, theyʹre dead clever anʹ useful! Course, this lot donʹ get a lot oʹ work, itʹs mainly jusʹ pullinʹ the school carriages unless Dumbledoreʹs takinʹ a long journey anʹ donʹ want ter Apparate— anʹ hereʹs another couple, look—”

He beckoned to what must have been more thestrals passing closer to Parvati, who shivered and pressed herself up against Lavender Brown in fear. “I think I felt something— I think itʹs near me!”

“Donʹ worry, it wonʹ hurt yeh,” said Hagrid patiently. “Righʹ, now, who can tell me why some oʹ yeh can see ʹem anʹ some canʹt?”

Hermione raised her hand.

“Go on then,” said Hagrid, beaming at her.

“The only people who can see Thestrals,” she said, “are people who have seen death.”

Oh. Kit had definitely heard of these, then, just not with that name. 

“Thaʹs exactly right,” said Hagrid solemnly, “ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, Thestrals—”

“Hem, hem.”

Kit gritted her teeth. She was in no mood to deal with Umbridge, not after what’d just happened with Draco. She was already feeling her temper wanting to rise, and this was not going to help. So far, she’d managed to stay calm in the woman’s class, fueled with pleasure at the thought of them doing the DA behind her back and one-upping her. But now, this was another environment completely. And since she couldn’t see the thestrals at all, her ire was completely focused upon the clipboard-holding woman, wearing a green hat and cloak.

“Hem, hem,” she said again when Hagrid failed to notice her the first time. 

“Oh, hello!” Hagrid said, smiling cordially at her. 

“You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?” said Umbridge. Her voice was loud and slow, as if she was speaking to a dimwitted foreigner.

“Oh, yeah,” said Hagrid brightly. “Glad yeh found the place all righʹ! Well, as you can see— or, I dunno— can you? Weʹre doinʹ Thestrals today—”

“Iʹm sorry?” said Umbridge loudly, cupping her hand around her ear and frowning. “What did you say?”

“Er— Thestrals!” he said loudly. “Big— er— winged horses, yeh know!” He flapped his gigantic arms hopefully. 

Umbridge raised her eyebrows at him and muttered as she made a note on her clipboard: “Has... to... resort... to... crude... sign... language.”

Kit immediately opened her mouth to snap, but Hermione squeezed her hand so hard that she just let out a soft yelp. 

“Well... anyway...ʺ said Hagrid, turning back to the class and looking slightly flustered, “erm... what was I sayinʹ?”

“Appears... to... have... poor... short... term... memory,” muttered Umbridge, loudly enough for everyone to hear her. This time, Hermione dug her nails into Kit’s arm as a reminder to stay quiet, but Kit was hardly feeling the pain. Her blood was boiling...

“Oh, yeah,” said Hagrid, throwing an uneasy glance at Umbridgeʹs clipboard, but ploughing on valiantly. “Yeah, I was gonna tell yeh how come we got a herd. Yeah, so, we started off with a male anʹ five females. This one—” he patted thin air, in Kit’s eyes, “name oʹ Tenebrus, heʹs my special favourite, firsʹ one born here in the Forest—”

“Are you aware,” Umbridge said loudly, interrupting him, “that the Ministry of Magic has classified Thestrals as ʺdangerousʺ?”

Hagrid merely chuckled. “Thestrals arenʹ dangerous! All righʹ, they might take a bite outta yeh if yeh really annoy them—”

“Shows... signs... of... pleasure... at... idea... of... violence,” muttered Umbridge, scribbling on her clipboard again.

“No— come on!” said Hagrid, looking a little anxious now. “I mean, a dogʹll bite if yeh bait it, wonʹ it— but Thestrals have jusʹ got a bad reputation because oʹ the death thing— people used ter think they were bad omens, didnʹ they? Jusʹ didnʹ understand, did they?”

Umbridge simply scribbled one last note on her clipboard. “Please continue teaching as usual,” she said loudly and slowly, just like before. “I am going to walk—” she mimed walking in place, “among the students—” she gestured toward several individuals, “and ask them questions—” she pointed at her mouth to indicate talking.

“He’s not deaf and he’s not stupid, you know,” Kit snapped suddenly, yanking her arm out of Hermione’s grip. 

Umbridge turned to her, and with her usual sickly sweet smile, nodded. “I am aware,” she said simply. “Pay attention to your lesson, Miss Thompson.”

“That foul old gargoyle!” hissed Hermione, tears of anger in her eyes as Blaise pulled Kit back before she could launch at Umbridge. 

“Erm... anyway,” said Hagrid, clearly struggling to regain the flow of his lesson, “so— Thestrals. Yeah. Well, thereʹs loads oʹ good stuff abouʹ them…”

“Do you find,” said Umbridge in a ringing voice to Pansy Parkinson, “that you are able to understand Professor Hagrid when he talks?”

Kit’s heart sank when she heard the girl’s response. “No, because— well— it sounds like grunting a lot of the time.” Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard happily. The few unbruised bits of Hagridʹs face flushed, but he tried to act as though he had not heard Pansyʹs answer.

“Er... yeah... good stuff abouʹ Thestrals. Well, once theyʹre tamed, like this lot, yehʹll never be lost again. ʹMazinʹ sense oʹ direction, jusʹ tell ʹem where yeh want ter go—”

“Assuming they can understand you, of course,” said Pansy in a shrill voice before going into a fit of giggles. Umbridge smiled indulgently and turned to Neville. 

“You can see the Thestrals, Longbottom, can you?” she said. Neville nodded.

“Who did you see die?” she asked, her tone indifferent. 

“My... my grandad,” said Neville.

“And what do you think of them?” she said, waving her stubby hand at the horses, who by now had stripped a great deal of the carcass down to bone.

“Erm,” said Neville nervously, with a glance at Hagrid. “Well, theyʹre... er... okay...ʺ

“Students... are... too... intimidated... to... admit... they... are... frightened,” muttered Umbridge, making another note on her clipboard.

“No!” said Neville, looking upset. “No, Iʹm not scared of them!”

“Itʹs quite all right,” said Umbridge, patting Neville on the shoulder with what she evidently intended to be an understanding smile.”ʹWell, Hagrid. I think Iʹve got enough to be getting along with. You will receive—” she mimed taking something from the air in front of her, “the results of your inspection—” she pointed at the clipboard,” in ten daysʹ time—” she held up ten stubby little fingers. She turned to walk away, but by then, Kit had taken matters into her own hands.

Wand out, no words spoken, she summoned the clipboard from Umbridge’s grasp and caught it, making the entire class turn toward her when they saw it soaring past their heads. She noticed Draco’s eyes widened in what appeared to be fear, but Kit was too overwhelmed with fury to care. 

Umbridge turned around immediately, eyes wide. “Miss Thompson,” she snapped, toad eyes bulging when she caught sight of the clipboard in Kit’s hands. “How dare—”

Kit didn’t answer. Silently, and with an evil grin on her face, she pressed her wand against the clipboard. First, it erupted in flames, and several students leapt away from her. Then, with another wave, it disappeared completely. 

“Oops,” she said with fake innocence, casting Umbridge a look. “Oh dear… it appears the inspection results are… gone. Vanished into thin air, it would seem. Pity... it seems another inspection will be in order... since there's no evidence of this one, hmm?"

Harry looked beyond pleased at this, and it only egged Kit further on, neither of them thinking that this was going to end very badly. Umbridge’s eyes flashed dark, and she stomped one of her stubby feet into the ground. At first, she was at a loss for words, as if holding back from publicly cursing Kit into oblivion. “You— you—”

“Yes, me, me,” Kit countered, using the same slow and loud voice she’d been using. “Here’s the thing, Professor, I think you inspected the wrong thing today.” 

And before anyone could stop her, she yanked up her robes and blouse, giving everyone a very clear view of the brassiere she had on. Several of the Slytherins boys let out jeers of entertainment, and Kit was sure she heard a horrified gasp escaping from Lavender, Parvati, and Hermione’s mouths. The Ravenclaw was feeling rather pleased with herself, and she bowed low, purposely exposing her own cleavage.

“Why don’t you evaluate this, Madam High Inquisitor?” said Kit, smirking maliciously. Blaise had covered his eyes and turned away, knowing there was no point trying to stop her. Harry and Ron, like most of the others present who were also in the DA, seemed rather pleased with Kit's boldness (though they respectfully refrained from gazing at her exposed midriff). The only one openly staring at her was Draco, filled with shock, worry, and most of all, awe. 

“Are my breasts suitable and meeting your standards?" chirped Kit happily, looking around at the class as if wanting their opinion. "They're not that big, but I'm proud of them! I forget if there's an Educational Decree that dictates the correct size, but I’d be happy to practice some spellwork to make them grow! I think that'd better suit your idiotic, biased, and sadistic need to—"

Umbridge had had enough. She had come closer faster than Kit had been expecting, and caught Kit’s arm, yanking her blouse back down, her face red and bloated ragefully. “Detention for this upcoming week, Miss Thompson!” she shrieked, her lips quivering. She yanked her forward. “We will discuss this with Professor Flitwick— such indecency— I have never— I will make sure you’re kept from setting foot on the Quidditch pitch again!”

“Aw, what a pity!” Kit called, trying to ignore the fact her eyes were watering. 

There, she’d fucking done it. She’d messed up again. Acted impulsively and gotten herself into a load of trouble once more. She let her anger get the better of her and she reacted rather than consider the consequences. 

“You never learn, do you?” Umbridge seethed, gritting her teeth very audibly as she dragged Kit straight toward the Charms classroom. “Just wait until I tell your father, he’ll give you the punishment you deserve. I hear Kenneth has been keen on practicing his Unforgivables…”

Shit. Kit felt her chest tightening, and suddenly, the determination that’d fueled her into doing what she did was completely gone. It was replaced instead by fear, by anger, by pain. She felt tears slipping down her cheeks, and her lip trembled as she tried to stop herself from making noise.

This was too much for her. She thought things were better, but they weren’t. Something bad was coming, and she couldn’t stop it. She felt useless, and consumed with confusion. She couldn’t control her temper. She couldn’t help Draco feel better. All she seemed to do was get in trouble. 

She had tuned out while Umbridge had bickered with Flitwick about what to do with her. She’d felt only shame when it came to her understanding that she was, indeed, now banned from playing Quidditch, even though her outburst hadn’t happened anywhere near the pitch. Umbridge had left looking triumphant, and Kit had sank into the seat opposite Flitwick, her face stained and stiff from how much she’d been crying.

“Miss Thompson,” Flitwick said gently, wanting to understand why she was acting out again. “What’s going on? Everything had been better, you hadn’t gotten in trouble…”

“I-I messed up,” she said hoarsely, bringing her shaky hands up to hold her temples. “I m-messed— I messed up—”

Shame. Guilt. Pain. Torment. Stress. Confusion. 

This was too much. She could hardly put into words what she was feeling— the exact words were floating in her brain and she couldn't catch them. Something was wrong with her, something was wrong with the world. Something was wrong with Draco and she was useless when it came to helping him. Something was up with her father and she was useless when it came to stopping him. Everything meant nothing, and nothing made sense. She felt a headache coming on, and even when Flitwick offered her a tissue, her hand was trembling far too much for her to take it.

She had no idea it was about to get much worse. 

This was only the beginning.


	47. Chapter 47

**December rolled around and Kit’s mood gradually worsened.**

First, she’d come to terms with the fact she was not allowed to play Quidditch anymore. She had cried, and beat up several pillows in the process. She’d felt ashamed when Roger had asked her about what’d happened, and she’d had to deal with his almost judgmental look as she told him the truth. Initially, the incident had just caused her more anger but she thought it would dissipate and she’d calm down again right in time for the holidays, as she usually did.

This was not the case, especially not when the package from her father arrived.

It was a small box, about the size of a brick, though weighing less. Pinned to the top of the box was the letter containing what Kit was sure would be a lengthy threat. 

Instead, all the parchment said was:

_“A lesson to be learned. Next time, the piece will be from Draco’s body.”_

Her heart hammered in her chest as she’d tore open the box, in the privacy of the bathroom where she’d gone to view its contents, since the last time she’d received a package from her parents, it’d been in regards to her and Draco’s impending nuptials. 

She’d let out a strangled scream and dropped it, when she found a bloody hand inside. It was a woman’s, clearly, but certainly not her mother’s— it was much too pale and youthful, containing extravagant rings that she didn’t recognize. Blood had leaked onto the floor of the lavatory, and Kit had made quick work of cleaning it up before anyone found it, vanishing the hand and taking several deep breaths to calm herself down.

Her father had tortured someone and sent her a piece of evidence.

Sick to her stomach, she had been sitting over the toilet for hours, throwing up a few times as she tried to rid herself of the memory. The anger she thought was disappearing made itself known again, and with trembling hands, she’d gripped the edge of the toilet so hard that her knuckles lost an unsettling amount of circulation. She supposed her father intended her to be scared, and she was, but on top of that, all she felt was rage. 

She hated his obsession with having power over others. Last term, Su had quietly asked why her parents didn’t just disown her, and Kit had pondered on it, answering that her father relished in domineering others in any way he could. She wished she could get disowned, even if it meant she would struggle. Anything would be better than returning to that wretched home every break and spend time with the awful man who had taken away her mother’s freedom.

It had made her more irate to think of her mother. Poor Alison Smith, cursed in a manner that no one had ever noticed before. Still trapped. Kit recalled Alastor Moody’s warning from September to not dare try anything, but at this point, she was too furious with her father to think of anything else.

Either way, she was not eager to listen to Moody’s advice from before. She wasn’t thinking of his suggestions, just any answer in general. November had ended, Kit’s hand had scarred over once more from her detention, and yet, she had received no response from him yet after the many letters she sent.

There was a chilling moment when she assumed the worst— her father must have found out about their correspondence. Perhaps he had killed him, or made him disappear, and _The Daily Prophet_ was too scared to report on it for others to know. The sudden hiatus was making Kit antsy, and she hated it. 

By December, she was back on her old bullshit again, as Blaise called it.

She was crying more often, in secret, needing to vent, and it hurt her eyes, which led her to give unnecessarily rude stares in the direction of others. She was avoiding Draco and the Slytherin Common Room in general, trying to focus on her studies, though that was really just a ruse for her to be left alone and let her mind wander toward plans of murder that she could have befall her wretched sperm donor. 

She became impatient again. Her friends had tried to cheer her up, because they certainly noticed that she was pushing them away, but that had just led to several academic rows that left them to just not try and cross her. Kit felt terrible, thinking back on the fact she’d blatantly insulted Mimi’s Charms paper by pinpointing negative traits about the writer herself. She didn’t mean to— she no longer felt in control of herself. 

The prefects had been asked to supervise Christmas decorating, and this had proved to just fuel Kit’s distaste for everything around her. She already disliked Christmas in general. She’d never really fancied any holidays— all they gave her in the past were memories of abuse. Hermione had been very shocked when Kit had nearly kicked a ladder out from under her feet while they were putting up Christmas wreaths. Kit had apologized, feeling guilty that she wasn’t paying attention to how destructive her behavior was, but as soon as Hermione forgave her, she’d just started acting bitter again. 

She was lashing out often, either with herself or others, who were struggling to tolerate her, and try to accept her. Her head always hurt, she was having trouble sleeping. The discomfort made her snap practically every other second. The only thing that kept her from making another display of indecency in Umbridge or Snape’s lessons was the fact she still had to sit next to Draco, and she’d convinced herself that if she behaved at least there, then there’d be no excuse for him to even try to talk to her. 

Blaise had tried to coax her into discussing the matter of Draco, even if it meant staying away from him. He didn’t know about the hand. About her father’s threat. About how she worried that she was putting Draco in danger. About how angry she was that she didn’t know why Draco had snapped at the Quidditch match. Kit hardly understood her own emotions— all she knew was she was feeling an indescribable wrath that made her think devilish things. 

She managed to avoid Blaise’s inquiries with half-asse jokes. But Blaise knew her best, and he knew the subject was clearly sore if she was avoiding it so relentlessly. She didn’t even want to discuss Draco as a student. She didn’t want to look at him.

She felt afraid. Afraid that he’d be mutilated for her own bad behavior. And yet, that was what she struggled to control. It was her natural instinct to speak out against injustices, but the leash her father practically had around her throat was tight poison, keeping her barely in line, at least until he could get her home and punish her properly. It scared her to think what he had in store for her. Would he use the Unforgivables again? Would he beat her to death, this time? Or worse— would he torture Draco and make her watch? Would he dare to hurt her mother?

This only further irritated her. The unequivocal uncertainty. She knew her father was planning something, she knew it involved Lucius Malfoy and Umbridge, she knew he intended to keep Kit in line. But how far would he really go?

For now, as much as it pained her, her mind screamed at her that the only logical path was to ignore Draco, to keep him safe. 

She missed him, and that made her madder. She missed the feeling of his hand in hers. His lips over her neck. The way he’d press her up against another surface and grind his body into hers, as he typically did to keep her right where he wanted her. She missed seeing his pupils dilate when she challenged him, making him unleash the needy animal that only ever came out for her. She missed being bratty on purpose just to see what he could do. It was a chase that brought them both pleasure, and it ached to think how much better it would have felt if they had taken it a step further.

But that was not safe. She didn’t think it wise to risk such an attachment. Even if she was going to have to marry him (which even now, seemed like such a distant problem), she didn’t want to forge too strong of a connection if it meant he’d be in danger.

Draco felt the same. He wanted to speak to her, but her avoidance of him was discouraging. He supposed it was for the best. He had received no more letters from his father, therefore, he hoped at least he could keep protecting Kit from the truth. The last thing he wanted was to see her hurt again.

It had pained him so much to see her tortured last year. He couldn’t believe it’d been a year since her father had made her writhe and scream on the floor. The memory bore painful holes into his skull, resurfacing everytime he even dared to think of speaking to her again.

Things were far too complicated. Neither knew what the other was going through, because in their minds, it was safer to stay in the dark. And how they both hated the dark…

Draco wanted her. He wanted the feeling of her thin figure in his arms. He wanted to hear her breath hot in his ear when they embraced. He wanted to hear her retorts, feel the fire that came from her. He loved seeing her in her element, not taking shit from anyone. He craved to once more see her being the badass she had always been.

But not if it meant she could lose her life.

Both of their cravings for the other were obsessively healthy, in whatever way the phrase made sense. They meshed together too well to be apart, they made each other better. But danger lay behind every step they took as a pair. Perhaps they should have never gotten so involved. Even without a blatant romantic attraction, there was _something_ there, and that something was making them put targets on each other’s backs. 

Kit hated her life. She wished she’d never have been born a Thompson. That Draco hadn’t been born a Malfoy. She hated the control her father had over her, she hated the temper she’d inherited from that abominable man. She wished something could change. She wished she had more control.

But she didn’t, and she didn’t know how to get help for it.

By the time the last DA meeting rolled around, no one really wanted to be partnered with Kit anymore for exercises. 

Su, as always, was unbelievably patient. She always had been like that— the one that could withstand the most of Kit’s attitude. She consistently practiced with her, letting her take her anger out on her with spellwork. Kit wished she could be more like Su— unbothered. The girl had always been so emotionally stable, resilient, and optimistic. She had no real worries outside of schoolwork, and even then she was highly intelligent. The biggest pain she had was that she had never met her father. Her life was good otherwise. Her mother loved her and she had a loving extended family she visited during vacations. Her greatest concerns at the moment were how to get Ron Weasley to be aware of the fact she fancied him, and how to prepare for being on the Quidditch team next term.

Blaise was the only other one who dared try and practice with Kit consistently. He, like Su, was quite patient, but Kit felt like a burden, drawing him away from Hermione. She could sense they were both very aware of their feelings for each other, and she didn’t want to come between them. 

At least, Blaise and Su had remained entirely committed to helping her, even with her foul mood and wretched words. Were it not for them, Kit would have certainly self-destructed, or gotten someone else seriously hurt.

Kit had arrived to the last DA meeting very early, accompanying Harry, who, like her, had been sort of withdrawn from the others. Even though she and Harry hardly thought to speak of their emotions, it felt nice knowing that someone else was sort of struggling in a similar way.

“I think Dobby decorated this place,” he said to Kit with a pained grin, seeing golden baubles all over the ceiling, bearing a picture of Harry and the words ‘HAVE A VERY HARRY CHRISTMAS!’ “Care to help me get them down?”

“Sure,” said Kit. Nothing better to do anyway. At least, today, her mood was a tad better.

She and Harry had just managed to get the last of them down when Luna Lovegood came in, smiling pleasantly at the decorations. “These are nice,” she said vaguely. “Did you put them up?”

“No,” answered Harry. “It was Dobby, the house-elf.”

“Mistletoe,” said Luna dreamily, pointing at a large clump of white berries placed almost over Harryʹs head. He jumped out from under it, and Kit took a cautious step away, though she wasn’t planning to object if Luna tried to kiss her.

“Good thinking,” said Luna very seriously, apparenting _not_ having been considering kissing Kit. “Itʹs often infested with Nargles.”

Harry seemed to be about to ask what Nargles were, when the three Gryffindor Chasers came in, covered in snow. “Well,” said Angelina dully, “we’ve finally replaced you.”

“Replaced me?” said Harry. Kit could see he looked hurt. “Who?”

“Ginny Weasley,” said Katie Bell. 

Both Harry and Kit gaped at her. Neither minded, of course, this was a good choice, but Kit could feel the sadness radiating off of Harry. 

“Yeah, I know,” said Angelina, pulling out her wand and flexing her arm, “but sheʹs pretty good, actually. Nothing on you, of course,” she said, throwing him a very dirty look that made both Kit and Harry tense up. Both of them were so sick of being judged. “But as we canʹt have you…”

“And what about the Beaters?” Harry asked, his voice not as level as before. 

“Andrew Kirke,” said Alicia Spinnet without enthusiasm, “and Jack Sloper. Neither of them are brilliant, but compared to the rest of the idiots who turned up…”

Kit gave them a wry smile, seeing the door opening behind them and welcoming in Ron, Su, Hermione, Blaise, and Neville. “Harry, let’s chat,” she said, yanking him away from the girls.

“I’m so sick of her hounding on me as if I don’t regret getting kicked off,” huffed Harry lowly, peeking back to where Hermione and Ron were sending the pair some worried looks.

“Tell me about it. Roger isn’t as cross, since Norman was on reserve anyway, but the disappointment he looks at me with is hurtful.”

For a moment, at least, Harry and Kit shared an understanding look. Kit patted Harry’s back, feeling a bit calmer than before, albeit being very annoyed at their shared situation at the moment.

If only they’d all been born different people… 

“Okay,” said Harry, finally calling the meeting to order after about five minutes. “I thought this evening we should just go over the things weʹve done so far, because itʹs the last meeting before the holidays and thereʹs no point starting anything new right before a three‐week break—”

“Weʹre not doing anything new?” said Zacharias Smith, in a disgruntled whisper loud enough to carry through the room. “If Iʹd known that, I wouldnʹt have come.”

“Weʹre all really sorry Harry didnʹt tell you, then,” said Fred loudly.

Several people sniggered, even Kit, who was currently on a cushion beside Su, who was braiding a few loose strings on her robes. 

“—we can practise in pairs,” said Harry. “Weʹll start with the Impediment Jinx, for ten minutes, then we can get out the cushions and try Stunning again.”

Kit and Su went to their respective far corner immediately. Su was shifting on the balls of her feet, giving Kit a curious look.

“Yes?” Kit asked, raising her wand and waiting for Su to try and freeze her.

“Mimi and Terry are officially done,” said the dark haired Ravenclaw, peering over to where Mimi was paired with Hannah Abbott. “Told me just a few minutes ago.”

“Really? Huh. Did they say why? I thought they really liked each other.”

“Yeah, Mimi did tell me. I think Terry will want to talk to you about it personally, though, you know he always prefers to admit things in a more private setting.”

“Terry hasn’t spoken alone to me in awhile. Neither has Anthony. I feel bad… I’ve been very short with them when it comes to revisions.”

“Don’t feel bad, Kit,” said Su, offering her a smile. “You’ve been stressed, we get it.”

“That’s no excuse. I’m insufferable, I know it.”

“The first step is admitting it and you’ve done that. We don’t judge you. We know you’re going through a lot, even though I’m the only one who knows the details.”

Not that long before, once the others had started giving Kit her distance, the Ravenclaw had finally told Su about the year before— the painful memory of the Cruciatus Curse. She had only ever told Hermione previously, but she thought Su should know. The girl had been distraught to find out the truth, but it had only made her more understanding.

Kit really did wish she could be more like Su. Everyone needed a friend like that. Not someone like her, who snapped and let her anger get the best of her.

“I’ll tell them eventually,” mumbled Kit. “They’ll just worry.”

“I worry more about you now that I know. _Impedimenta_!”

Kit’s body froze, but the look on her face made Su gaze back sympathetically. “I really wish you could spend the holidays with us. Mum says we’re hosting this year for Christmas dinner. You’d get to meet my cousins.”

“I would like to,” sighed Kit dejectedly, wiggling her arms when she unfroze. “But I don’t want to be the cause of anyone else’s ire. _Impedimenta_!”

Su froze, but quickly regathered her wits. “You’re aware of it, and that’s at least helpful. I just hate you have to go back to that toxic environment. I can see the guilt of your temper is hurting you. It’ll just get worse when you have to be back over there.”

They left the conversation at that. Usually, at least, Su tried to converse a bit to keep Kit mildly distracted, but they never went too into depth so that she wouldn’t grow frustrated and start snarling again. 

They started practicing Stunning soon after, and Kit moved to be with Blaise. He was getting rather good at the spells, managing to stun his opponents faster than what they could do to him. Kit smiled a bit, seeing Hermione watching him with admiration. 

It made her feel angry when she pondered on the fact that people like her family made the world unsafe for those born in the same manner as Hermione. Blaise’s family had never minded— his mother had always been accepting. But in the real world, Hermione would always be in constant danger. This random thought always plagued the back of Kit’s mind, and she had to shake it out of her skull before it led her to start a row with someone. 

The hour flew by, and soon Harry was dismissing them. Kit wished that the DA meetings could go on forever. Even though no one really spoke to her anymore, it was a good thing to keep her mind occupied, and she liked having company. 

“Youʹre getting really good,” Harry said, beaming. “When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff— maybe even Patronuses.”

There was a murmur of excitement. Kit felt it, too, but almost immediately, negative thoughts flooded her and she started to wonder if she would even have the capacity of producing something as positive as a Patronus.

She didn’t leave immediately. She helped clean a bit as others trailed away, and really only darted out when she saw Cho approaching Harry by herself. It made her smile a bit to see that— they both deserved to be happy, and they clearly liked each other. But when she left the room she frowned, remembering that quite a few of the gossipy girls were talking badly about Cho for moving on from Cedric already.

Kit hated the world far too often.

She had started walking the castle aimlessly at first, traipsing through the halls and just letting herself think. Trying to stay calm so that when she rejoined the others, she wouldn’t damper the mood. She popped into the Owlery, smiling at the owls before returning to her dormitory, where she found two letters waiting on her bed. 

_“Kit,_

_Apologies. Been out of office, hadn’t been able to reply. Letters not safe to arrive at headquarters. Sorry to hear about what happened. Hoping you will be safe in the holidays. Let me know if you need help. Don’t do anything you will regret. If you can visit, contact me. You deserve to see your friends, and Molly will want to make sure you are okay._

_Alastor.”_

The prospect of getting to visit the Order headquarters made her heart leap with joy, but she quickly frowned with distaste when she realized that it was very unlikely her father would let her leave the house, especially not to visit what he labeled as ‘bloodtraitor scum.’

She sat down on her mattress and tore open the second letter, feeling a bit happier with this— she’d certainly be allowed to attend.

_“Kit,_

_I hope you’ve been well, and I hope my brother hasn’t been giving you too much trouble. I believe he told you about the wedding, and I wanted to let you know we’ve decided on the beginning of July for it to happen. I’d really love if you and Blaise would be part of the maids and groomsmen, specifically the ringbearers. I have a lovely dress in mind for you if you’d like. I’ll be coming home in June, and I would very much like if you could visit with Blaise when you finish your summer term so that we can reunite properly._

_Always the best from your big sister,_

_Andrea Zabini.”_

Holding the letter to her chest, she sighed happily. She wondered if perhaps Hermione could be Blaise’s date for the wedding. It made her giddy to think about orchestrating that— Andrea and Hermione would get along very well. And Kit knew that once Harriet met Hermione, she’d definitely start planning the Blamione wedding that Kit herself had teased Blaise relentlessly about.

Feeling a bit better than before with her letters, she decided to go downstairs to where Mimi, Terry, Anthony, and Su were gathered, doing their final assignments. They looked up as Kit came down, offering her smiles.

“Hey,” she said, more gently than usual, at least in the past few weeks. “How are you guys?”

“We’re good,” said Terry. Kit glanced between him and Mimi. They didn’t look cross at each other, so whatever had been the cause of their breakup must not have been so bad.

“Excited for the holiday,” said Anthony, slouching back on the couch. “I was thinking I could get my family to do something completely random, say it’s my dying wish.” 

“But you’re not dying,” chastised Mimi. “Seriously, you boys are the limit.”

“Say, can we talk, Kit?” asked Terry, making Su look up expectantly as if to say ‘told you so.’

“Sure.” The brunette stood and the boy followed her out into the hallways, not too far from the Common Room.

“Have you been okay?” asked Kit. 

“Yes, I have. I’m sorry— I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this for awhile now but I haven’t known what to say. Anthony’s been telling me how he’s sure you won’t mind, granted the whole Malfoy thing…”

“What do you mean?”

He shifted awkwardly on his feet. “Remember last year when Durmstrang and Beauxbatons arrived? I um, mentioned something about Michael being attractive?”

“Er— yeah, I recall they were teasing about it.”

“I’ve been… questioning things since then. Anthony came to terms with it first, that’s why he and Su broke up, and Mimi helped me figure a lot of stuff out. So you’re the last one left to know. I’ve been scared to tell you. Anthony knows you’re not judgmental but you… seemed so sad and mad lately I was scared.”

Kit felt her heart ache. “Terry, I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was make you all feel unsafe and such around me. I think… I understand what you mean.”

“I like him, Kit,” said Terry, looking down. “And he likes me. He thought I should be the one to tell you because you’d get it, and I’m most uncertain about it. How did you know that you liked Malfoy?”

“I mean… I’ve known him for so long. I knew there was good to him no matter what facade he put up. I was willing to look past what society saw in him. I’m guessing you’re trying to do the same.”

“What if we’re made fun of? Or hurt? I don’t want Anthony to get hurt because of me.”

Kit put her hands on his shoulders. “We’re not going to let either of you get hurt.”

Even afterwards, when into the night, she sat with Terry and Anthony by the fire and they told her all about their feelings, excited that she was in a good enough mood for them to speak with her, she found herself feeling a great pang in her heart.

There was so much that angered her about literally everything in existence. It wasn’t fair that Terry and Anthony had to be so cautious about their growing romance. It wasn’t fair that Hermione wasn’t widely accepted even though she was such a genius witch. It wasn’t fair that Umbridge and her father were imposing their power on so many who didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t fair that she and Draco were in constant danger. 

When Terry and Anthony had gone to bed, Kit had remained awake thinking of Draco. She wanted to be with him, she wanted the world to be accomodating and let them both be happy. 

Her feet began to carry her to the Slytherin Common Room before she could think about it. All this anger, all this lack of hope, and she had never considered that the solution would have been to talk to Draco. Even with her fear that he’d get hurt, she hadn’t pondered on how necessary it was for her to speak with him. To just feel his presence beside her. 

But before she arrived, she caught a glimpse of Professor McGonagall, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter, heading full speed in the direction of Dumbledore’s office. 

And just like that, she was reminded that things were far too horrible, desperately needing change. 

The world was still not up to par with Kit’s expectations.


	48. Chapter 48

**The next day, Kit was unsettled by what she learned.**

“They just all left suddenly,” Hermione said softly to her and Blaise in the library. “All the Weasleys. They have every right to— Mr. Weasley was attacked, and Harry _saw_ it. Professor McGonagall looked really panicked when she told me. I can’t imagine what they must all be feeling. I really hope he’s alright.”

Kit hadn’t said a word. She was in shock. What could the Order possibly be doing that got Mr. Weasley so hurt? The only person she’d ever known that went to St. Mungo’s was her uncle, and he didn’t exactly count, since she’d never really met him. She wished she could have. Even if they might not have been able to see each other often, since he was disowned and shunned by her father, perhaps he would have been a good influence. A fellow Ravenclaw Thompson. A fighter, accepting of different types of people. 

But now, he was dead, and it made her feel more worried about Mr. Weasley. She had to make sure he survived.

Therefore, while Blaise had comforted a very worried Hermione while she made arrangements to go to Grimmauld Place instead of skiing with her parents, Kit had gone to her dorm and gotten out some parchment and a hefty sack of Galleons. A quick note, written in a different style than she normally did, and charmed to be untraceable back to her. Asking— no, _pleading_ (anonymously)— for the best care for Mr. Weasley. She hadn’t met him yet, but Mrs. Weasley had been so kind to her, and their children were her friends. If, at least, this was enough money to prompt better care for him, she hoped it’d be of good use to let the Weasleys keep a good father. 

When term had ended, Hermione had left straight to Grimmauld Place. Blaise and Kit had seen her off to the taxi, and then, had gone their separate ways to their homes. 

Kit hadn’t spoken to Draco, even though she had wanted to. Clarity came to her despite her impulses, and either way, she didn’t want to give herself hope before returning home.

If it could even be called a home… 

She had walked in and found it fairly empty. She caught glimpse of one of the usual maids, who nodded cordially and went about her work. She peeked into the dining room and saw her father’s briefcase— he must be working from home in order to be present when she arrived. She went to her room, dropping her trunk at the edge of her bed. 

Wandering down the halls, she purposely avoided going straight to her parents’ room and took a stroll in the abandoned wing that while still cared for, was completely unused. She stopped to twirl on her tiptoes in an empty ballroom that she’d once thrown a tantrum in when Draco had stolen one of her favorite dolls. By the time she made her round in the enormous manor, she forced herself to stop at the familiar door that her mother always slipped into, and knocked.

“Come in.”

Her voice sounded more gentle, and Kit felt a smile tug at her features, opening the door and seeing her mother sitting in her armchair by the window with a cup of tea in her fragile looking hands. She looked ill.

“Mother?” asked Kit, coming closer. “Are you alright?”

Alison had a faraway look in her eyes as she turned to face her daughter. “Your father went to fetch some medicine. I had the flu. I am bettering myself now.”

Kit felt a twinge of joy. Not because her mother had been sick, but because it certainly meant she’d been too weak for her father to refresh his spell on her. Meaning she could still try and break her of it, and hopefully, get her out of the trance long enough to have them both make some sort of escape. She was sure Moody could help them be safe somewhere.

“That’s good,” she said, crossing her legs as she sat on the windowsill. “It will help you feel better.”

“Not better enough. I hear you’ve been causing trouble again. You never learn, do you? Ungrateful child. We could have paid fortunes more to send you to Beauxbatons. With our French descendancy, they never could have denied us. You’d have been kept proper there. But no, you insisted on attending Hogwarts. We never should have listened. You were never as well-behaved as Alana.”

Kit had learned by then to no longer take her mother’s words to heart. After all, she wasn’t in her right mind. Additionally, she felt a small sense of triumph, because now that she knew that Alana had been Sirius’s companion in the past meant that her sister certainly had been a slight troublemaker. Perhaps one that was just never caught and reported. 

“I apologize to you, Mother,” she said, tucking her arms on her lap. “That Umbridge woman is foul.”

Alison let out a soft snort. “I never could stand her. Albus Dumbledore is a dunce. Narcissa and I had a proper laugh when we heard that woman was put in. She knows how difficult it is for women in this world and she practically waltzes through the doors that historical figures opened for her, then tries to shut them behind. Thinks herself to be privileged, that one. No sense of fashion, either. But of course, she’s no wife or mother, she can never understand how harmful her actions are. All she wants is power, but the type of power that is not easily gained. Selfish. Bitchy.”

Kit let out a soft laugh. At least her mother and godmother hated Umbridge too. “She’s awful. I don’t know if father told you about how the er— detentions go.” She held her hand up and showed it to her mother, whose eyebrows furrowed. She set down her tea and examined her daughter’s hand, tracing her fingertips over the scar.

“I would think it a good lesson,” she scoffed, as if she was fine with it. But Kit caught a glint in her eyes— shock. She hadn’t known, and inherently, did not approve. She seemed to be wanting Kit to believe she was fine with it, however, because she added, “that’ll teach you to behave yourself.”

“Yes ma’am,” said Kit. Alison leaned back, looking rather disgruntled with the new revelation. The young girl pursed her lips together. “I was er, thinking about how torturous she is. How much she hurts me and others. It reminded me of the impostor from last year. How he went raving mad. Mentioned Alana and Father.”

Alison’s lips twitched. “Yes… I recall that.”

“It’s like how you and Father always talk bad on Dumbledore. Really, it’s ridiculous how dangerous it is at Hogwarts. Lunatics like that who have some vendetta against you for not letting them marry your eldest daughter.”

“Yes… lunatics,” she murmured thoughtfully, her body swaying a bit. “Katherine… Kit…”

“Yes, Mother?”

“What were you saying?” she asked blankly, looking down at her hands. “I forgot… I was… drifting off.”

“Mother?” Kit asked cautiously, leaning closer and taking her hand. The cold face of the woman was not the same as it was before. Her guard was definitely off and it was working. Eagerly, she stood in front of her. “Do you remember now? Do you feel calm?”

She was clearly dazed for a second, but soon, she’d leapt to her feet, stumbling a bit and needing to be hoisted up. “Kit,” she said hurriedly. “Grab your things. Hurry. We must leave. We must go get your sister.”

This had caught the Ravenclaw off guard. “Mother? What are you talking about?”

“Your father will be back any minute, we need to get out, and get Alana, and go somewhere he can’t find us,” she said hurriedly, tripping over to her nightstand and grabbing her wand. “Go now!”

But it was already too late. By the time Kit had made it to the door, Kenneth Thompson was there, a vial in his hands. It didn’t take more than a few milliseconds for him to realize what was happening, and he smacked Kit so hard in the face that it made her body fly back and hit the ground.

“Idiot girl,” he seethed, setting down the vial and extracting his wand, pointing it at her. “Knowing you were in for a beating already wasn’t enough for you, was it?”

“I-It’s not her fault, K-Kenneth,” the woman behind her said immediately, putting her wand down and holding her hands up in surrender. “She… she doesn’t know.”

“Don’t even get me started on you,” he snarled at her. “Get over here.”

Obediently, out of fear of what would happen to Kit otherwise, Alison stepped forward. Kenneth raised his wand in a series of movements that soon made her stagger back, holding her head.

This only proved to be worse. Whimpering, Kit had tried desperately to crawl away when she caught the sadistic look in her mother’s eyes. She’d failed. Failed to save her. She should have listened to Alastor…

**_**

It was nearly time to return to Hogwarts when Kit finally managed to get all the ingredients she needed for her potion.

She had been beaten and bruised to the point where she was so sore, she had slept on the floor of the bedroom, forced to listen to her parents’ combined snoring as she struggled to even draw breath herself. 

The next day she’d been in for another round of torture. Kenneth had kicked her first thing in the morning and quite literally dragged her down the stairs, burning her legs and making her cry out again in pain. She had been starved that day, and the next, where she’d succumbed to a single round of the Cruciatus Curse at the hands of Alison.

She had been trapped in her room for the remainder of the holiday, allowed out only once a day for Kenneth to lecture her and gloat at the sight of her bruised face. Kit had forced herself not to look in the mirror for more than a second at a time, because her swollen eyelid and puffed lip were a disgrace. She needn’t require a constant reminder of the torturous person she lived with. 

In the brief moments she had freedom from her room, she’d move quickly to the storage cabinet in the kitchen where most ingredients were stored. She took a little bit at a time, not wanting to be caught. She wasn’t sure what her father would make of her trying to brew a concoction that would help her face be fixed before she returned to school. But she dared to collect things little by little, preparing her materials until she finally sat down one morning and began to brew.

She had spent the day making the potion. She tried to force herself to be optimistic, to some extent. She wasn’t dead. Draco hadn’t been hurt. Her friends hadn’t been hurt. Her mother hadn’t been hurt. The aching she could deal with, as well as the lectures. It could have been a lot worse.

But that just made her mind wander to darker places. It really could have been so much worse. She had expected to be near death, and she had not been. Had her father been holding back for a particular reason? Was it not as amusing to beat her anymore, since he’d been doing it for so long? 

She hoped that maybe, deep down, he had enough of a conscience to stop himself from hurting Draco. After all, it was very different to hurt someone else’s child. She knew her father was ruthless, but mostly with adults. Actually, aside from her, she’d never heard or seen him mistreat anyone other than Draco, the singular time he witnessed Kit’s torture. 

Still, there was a lingering feeling of curious dread. Why hadn’t her father been more brutal?

She tried to focus on other things. Her potion, for example. It would likely taste dreadful, but if it’d help her bruises go completely away, she was going to drink every last drop. She didn’t doubt she’d done it correctly, but she certainly hoped that no minor mistake had slipped her notice. 

In the period of waiting between stirs and adding ingredients, her thoughts fixated on the memory of Draco. Him beside her on the bench in Snape’s classroom. Quietly working with her. Telling her to stir properly. Sneaking looks and muffling laughter. 

What was he doing in that moment? Surely, his Christmas had been much better than hers. She hoped his father hadn’t been harsh. 

She wished she could be in two places at once. At Malfoy Manor to at the very least catch a glimpse of him. And at Grimmauld Place to see her friends and pay a visit to Arthur Weasley. But it would be highly difficult to get out, especially considering the trouble she was already in.

When she finished brewing, the sun was setting, and she forced herself to gulp down the beverage. The aftertaste was terrible, and she had to hold back the instinct to purge. She felt tingles on her face. At the very least, it must be working.

A knock on her door. “Katherine.”

She shoved the now empty cauldron and flask under her bed and stood quickly, brushing down her shirt before darting to the door. Standing there was her father, his coat on.

“I have business in London for the next few days,” he stated. “Your mother is coming with me, and we will be staying at the apartment I own. Pack your trunk within the hour— everything you need. You will be staying at the Malfoys for Lucius to keep an eye on you.”

Was she dreaming? She had never before been permitted to stay at the Malfoys. Never for the night, always a brief visit in the day— and one of those hadn’t occurred in ages. 

“Yes, sir,” she said, closing the door and returning to her things, rushing to put everything away. She dared to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror and managed a small grin when she saw the darkest bruises were fading, and those with their greenish yellow tint had already vanished. 

Her trunk was packed promptly, and her own coat fastened over her by the time she heard her father’s call. Dragging it behind her, she arrived at the door and followed her parents obediently out to the end of the walkway, to the edge of the gates that bordered the property. Her father gripped her wrist rather tightly when they apparated, right to the doorstep of Malfoy Manor. Kit had forgotten how similar it was to the Thompson Manor, bearing differences only in small arches and shades of colors that the previous owners had picked. 

Almost as soon as they landed, the door opened, and Kit looked up at the gentle face of her godmother.

“Kit,” she said softly, offering her hand to lead her in. “So good to see you. Safe trip, Kenneth and Alison. We’ll make sure she gets on the Hogwarts Express.”

“Thank you, Narcissa,” said Alison cordially, nodding her head before taking her husband’s hand and disapparating.

The moment they were gone, Narcissa breathed out a sigh of relief. “Let’s get to the kitchen, I have some ointments you can use,” she said very quietly, having Kit set her trunk down before pulling her away. 

Silently, the girl followed her godmother, past several empty rooms and into the familiar kitchen where she and Draco had once made a mess of pudding. Narcissa opened a lower drawer and extracted some small jars, opening it them carefully and sniffing before handing them to Kit.

“Here,” she said, beckoning her toward a particularly slimy beige. “That one is best.”

“Thank you,” answered Kit with a smile. “Is… is Draco here?”

“Yes, he’s upstairs in his room. He’s been waiting eagerly for you to arrive— says he’s prepared a Wizard’s Chess game to be played.”

Kit felt her cheeks turn pink under the cream that she had already lathered on her face. “He knows I’m terrible at chess.”

Narcissa simply smiled at her. “I believe he chose an indoor activity so that you needn’t have to see Lucius. He is meant to be watching you. But I will keep him occupied, so long as you two don’t get too rowdy.”

It was moments like these that desperately made Kit wish that her own mother wasn’t in a stupid trance. She expected Alison Thompson was truly this way, just like Narcissa. A caring and supportive mother who would do anything for her child. The only one who could tame the domineering husband that said child feared. The figure needed to cope with everything in life.

Once Narcissa had helped Kit clean her face, she handed her goddaughter a small pocket mirror to show her that the paste had indeed made great progress in removing the bruises. “There you go. Now, I’ll make a nice breakfast for tomorrow, since it’s a little late for dinner. You may stay in the room beside Draco’s, with the adjoining door.”

“Thank you,” said Kit again, returning to the hallway to grab her trunk before trudging up the stairs and going down the long hall to the room her godmother had indicated. She set her things down then passed through the door, seeing Draco was on his bed, a book propped up on his chest. 

He looked up immediately, and a warmth flooded into his face. “Kit Kat,” he said, finding himself genuinely smiling for the first time since before his father’s letter. 

“Hi,” she said a bit timidly. It was as though all the guilt flooded in at that moment, because she felt her lip tremble, and the need to cry. She felt she’d been too harsh to ignore Draco, even if in her mind, it was for his own safety.

But whatever her reasoning, it was forgotten. Draco had gotten up and practically ran to her, bringing her into his arms before he even thought to answer her greeting. 

And that was how things should be. Kit melted into him, her head falling into his chest and arms delicately wrapping around his back. A deep inhale, and the scent of pine and mint flooded her nostrils— he must have been out on his broom earlier, and had used his regular cologne after his shower, as he typically did.

“I missed you,” he breathed, his breath tickling her ear. 

“I missed you,” she repeated softly, closing her eyes just for an instant to feel relaxed and protected in his hold. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You don’t need to justify it. You had every right to ignore me after what I did, and I never should have been cross with you when it wasn’t your fault. You’re going through a lot and I don’t want to add to that stress. Just… know that I will always be here for you. Even if I’m not the person that… I should be… I still care a lot about you, Kit Kat. I hope you know that.”

She gave a slow nod before nuzzling her face into his chest. “I do.”

The understanding was what she had needed. Because despite guilt tearing into her, it was the most alleviating feeling to know that he wasn’t judging her. That he knew her well enough to understand that sometimes she withdrew as a coping mechanism. 

For Draco, it was comforting to know that she didn’t hate him. All he wanted was to protect her. Her and only her. He could still care less about others— it just wasn’t in his nature to be such a good bloody samaritan the way others were. He had no Hufflepuff traits aside from loyalty. 

His only soft spot was her.

That made it much harder for him to let go, even when he felt her squirming in his arms, wanting freedom.

This was the dilemma. Both wanted each other. They wanted the connection, the fire, the meaning that could only arrive when together. Yet neither knew that the other feared for their life, for their safety, if they were to remain together. Which was odd in the sense they had to be together regardless.

What way did the world work? How could they possibly ensure that nothing would tear the other to pieces? Tear them apart from each other?

They weren’t ready to tell the truth.

Draco could have told her about the letter. But then what? She’d be vengeful against his father, and it would put her in imminent danger. She’d want to help, he’d know it, and the last thing he wanted was for her to sacrifice her happiness just to keep him sane. She’d be involving herself further with him, a person who despite her incessant teachings, was at his core, a pessimist who disregarded far too many types of people. He hated that about himself, and as happy as he was with who he was becoming thanks to Kit, he couldn’t indulge in it, because that’d only put him at odds with the same father who wouldn’t mind torturing the girl in his arms. 

Kit could have told him about the hand. But he’d be insistent on the fact he’d protect himself. He’d never leave her side, and always stand up for her, even if it caused him harm. He’d be setting himself up as a target for her father, and if he were to become hurt, he could revert to his old ways or lose his life entirely. Either way, he would be destroyed.

Therefore, both decided to keep quiet for now. They cared for each other too much to ruin things further with such an intimate discussion. Things were certainly not okay, not now, and they would likely never be, but in the moment, all they needed was the other’s company.

Because at that rate, they loved each other, though neither was aware of it just yet. 

“Come, let’s sit,” said Draco, pulling her to his bed. She sat down, though quickly burrowed herself under the covers and curled up, relaxing at the safe feeling she got being here with him and not isolated in her room.

“I might not be so talkative today,” she murmured, stifling a yawn behind her hand. “I was brewing a potion all day.”

He winced. “The bruises…”

“Yes.”

He brought his hand over to hers, bringing it up and kissing the back of it. Her eyes fluttered closed, and he listened to her gentle breathing for an instant before leaning in and pressing a kiss on her forehead.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered, brushing some hair out of her face. “We can talk in the morning, when you feel better. Feel free to stay here, I can go to the other room if you’d like me to.”

“Stay,” she said, bringing her hand up to grip the collar of his shirt. “Hold me.”

She didn’t need to ask twice. Remaining over the covers out of respect, he pulled her close to him and let her rest her head on his chest, one arm draped around her waist, the other on her upper back. 

It was the final bit of peaceful comfort Kit would have in a long time. She had no idea how quickly things would go downhill from there. 

Not yet.


	49. Chapter 49

**There was a time when Kit thought things couldn’t get much more complicated than they already were.**

But this idiotic world was just testing her patience. 

She and Draco had arrived back to Hogwarts feeling relatively calm. They’d seen Blaise, who was excited to report that his mother was refraining from wedding her newest beau, at least until after his sister’s wedding.

“I don’t know how she’s holding back, honestly,” whistled Blaise. “I haven’t met the bloke yet— Andrea and I rarely do now— but the way she talks about him, he seems like a special one. I’d think she’d have married him by now but she hasn’t.”

Harriet Zabini was a respectful woman, from what Kit remembered. Very bold with her beauty and certainly not holding back when it came to her desires, but understanding enough to give her daughter her time in the spotlight. The woman knew that both Blaise and Andrea were mildly embarrassed of her constant marriages, and it seemed she was at least trying to minimize the attention on herself in order for Andrea to have her undivided attention. 

The first day back had been fine, actually. Kit found herself focusing properly on her classes again. Her mood was back to normal and she greeted her friends with smiles. She hugged Terry and Anthony, who held hands under the breakfast table. It seemed everyone was cheerful, especially little Orla who was talking their ear off at lunch about how she, Mimi, and Isobel had gone sledding and their younger cousin who was about three had done some accidental magic.

“Bloody hell, Mimi, your family is going to invade Hogwarts one day,” huffed Su, raising her eyebrows. “You Macdougals reproduce like rabbits.”

“Blame that on my grandparents, they thought it was a wonderful idea to make as many Pureblood babies as possible.”

“At least your family is the branch of nice Purebloods,” said Kit. “They keep the Ministry from being overrun by fucktards.”

Mimi had covered Orla’s ears a moment too late. The second-year squealed in delight. “I already know that word, _Morag_!” she said, purposely referring to her cousin by her birth name.

She hadn’t been laughing a second later when Mimi yanked out the ribbons in her hair. 

The day had gone smoothly, outside from the fact that Kit had to see Umbridge and Snape’s ugly faces. 

She had had her classes and had spent time in the library with Blaise, Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Su, due to Hermione’s insistence that they try and study together so that it wouldn’t be boring.

In fact, it was very fun for Kit to see most of the interactions. The subtlety with which Blaise would grab Hermione’s hand for no reason. How he’d start really deep conversations just to hear her thoughts about it. When Su had prompted a Quidditch discussion, Blaise had respectfully remained in a separate talk with Hermione about their planned courses after O.W.L.s, since she was not adept in talks related to the sports they all enjoyed.

It was better for Kit when she noticed just how much Su and Ron were enjoying each other’s presence. They were teasing and laughing and quite obviously leaning close to each other, pronouncing their interest. Kit caught Su patting Ron’s knee when he cracked a rather odd joke that both Kit and Harry didn’t understand the first time around. It became apparent that Su and Ron already had inside jokes of their own.

“You won’t even guess who we saw at St. Mungo’s!” said Ron, grinning ear to ear. “Gilderoy Lockhart!”

“Him?” said Su. “Oh wow, I haven’t thought of him in ages! After the Cornish Pixie mishap, I was so scared of being in his class…”

“He was in the long term care ward,” said Hermione matter-of-factly, which made Su, Ron, Kit, and Blaise share a funny look since they all knew that Hermione had previously admired the Professor, even as bizarre as ‘his’ books were.

“Speaking of St. Mungo’s— do any of you know how anonymity works there?” asked Ron. “Like, what is their policy?”

“Mum says it all revolves around payment,” mused Blaise. “If you’re in there and you don’t want anyone to ever know, you have to be willing to pay for the Healers to be very secretive. That’s usually only for really important people. Lockhart might be one of them— no one knew he was in there, most thought he was out of the country. Mental health is a rather sore topic for a lot of people.”

Kit noticed Hermione beaming admirably at Blaise for his knowledge. Ron, however, shook his head. “But if they’re your family, say, then why can’t you know the truth?”

“The policy still stands. Why’re you wondering?”

“Well, some anonymous person paid a heavy price to get my dad really good care while he was in there. I made a bet with Fred and George that it was our great-Aunt Muriel— she likes to pretend she doesn’t like us but I reckon deep down she felt really bad for Dad and tried to help. I really want to find out if it was her— they’d owe me ten Galleons!”

“I don’t think there is any amount of money that’d get the Healers to fess up on who sent it, if they even know,” said Blaise, looking sideways at Kit, who was pretending to be very engrossed in her essay.

As the time went on and Kit tried to study amidst the conversations happening around the table, she started noticing how different Harry looked. There was a shaken quality like he was constantly thinking back to something that unnerved him. 

“Harry,” she said, gathering her things. “Walk me to my Common Room, please?”

He seemed more than happy to get away from the others. “It’s always so awkward to be the alternating fifth wheels,” he mumbled. 

“Yes, it is,” said Kit, holding her bag over her chest. “How are you feeling?”

He winced. “Not too good. I feel… out of place. I don’t know how much you heard but…”

He began to tell her about his dream. A recurring one where he saw a door, located somewhere in the Department of Mysteries within the Ministry of Magic. On the night Arthur Weasley had been attacked, Harry told her how he’d been inside the body of the creature that attacked him— a snake.

Kit grimaced. “Nagini. I’ve heard of it— you mentioned seeing it in the graveyard.”

“It was just so strange. I thought I was being possessed by Voldemort. Ginny reckons I wasn’t, since she knows what it feels like, but I can’t help but wonder, since Mad-Eye hinted at it.”

“Possession doesn’t happen the same in everyone. Whereas she would lose track of time, some people don’t. It’s all very complicated, how the mind works. But it’s not a bad thing, per se, that you saw it like that. I’m sure it was startling and you feel partly responsible, but you must know that it was definitely not you that attacked him. Alastor is definitely not the best at making someone feel any sort of comfort in situations like that. I think perhaps if you want to discuss it with him, you can give me a message and I’ll encode it for you.”

“No, it’s okay,” said Harry. “Whole time at Grimmauld Place he was being gruff and just lingering or barking orders, you know. Besides, when he mentioned me possibly being possessed, I heard it through the Extendable Ears— he doesn’t know that I know. Only problem now is that I have to take Occlumency with Snape, of all people.”

“Ooh, I’ve heard of that. Have to be very strong-minded to master Occlumency and Legilimency. It’s a good thing they want you to learn that, but I just don’t think that Snape is the best teacher for that.”

Harry scoffed. “Tell me about it. I’d rather Dumbledore teach me but he hardly looks at me.”

“I’ve never trusted Dumbledore to make rational decisions at all. I guess if Snape is second best in terms of availability then you’ll have to cope, but I highly doubt you’ll learn anything with someone who treats you so poorly. I reckon you might be rather good at Potions— you and Ron and Neville, and others— if Snape wasn’t such a pain of a teacher. He doesn’t foster a good learning environment. I wish Flitwick knew Occlumency— he’s such a dear when it comes to helping students grasp concepts.”

“It sucks having to do it alone, too,” sighed Harry, rubbing his temples. “I don’t want to be alone with Snape. Not when I feel like this. It’s so confusing. I wish Dumbledore could just tell me every last bit of the truth. I’m sick of being kept in the dark about everything.”

“I can ask Alastor if maybe I can learn Occlumency with you. That way, you won’t be alone with Snape, and it’ll give me some practice in controlling my temper and impulses so that I don’t get in trouble again.”

“Please do,” said Harry as they reached the Ravenclaw Common Room. “I hope he says yes, because I don’t want Snape prying into my mind all the time… which reminds me— Cho and I kissed.”

Kit’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? When?”

“After the DA meeting that day. Under the mistletoe.”

Kit beamed. “Aw, that’s so sweet! I’m happy for you. She’s definitely fancied you for awhile, so don’t be shy about anything. She won’t object. I wish you both the best.”

But Harry didn’t answer. His gaze was fixated on something behind Kit. She turned, and saw Draco standing there, his hands in his pockets.

“Kit Kat,” he said, offering her a small smile. “We’re on duty tonight. I can wait for you here while you go get ready.” He drifted his eyes toward Harry, and she noticed him swallow shamefully, looking down at his feet. “I’m sorry, Potter,” he said a bit gruffly. “About the Quidditch thing.”

Kit had never seen Harry look so confused, not even before when Draco had had Brutus help Pigwidgeon send Sirius a ham. “Er— okay,” said Harry, obviously not about to forgive him. “See you, Kit.”

She gave him an awkward wave. “Want to come in?” she asked Draco, catching the door as it opened from the inside, due to a few of the sixth years stumbling out rapidly on their way to the library. 

“Um, sure,” he said, shifting forward and following her in. He tucked his hand in his pockets and stood by the door, looking around and seeming pleased that the Common Room was quite deserted at the moment. “Where is everyone?”

“First day back, most of them are doing homework in their dormitories,” Kit mused. “The Quidditch team had practice today, so they’re not here, and several of them just left for the library. Be right back.”

She rushed up the stairs to her room and threw her bag onto her bed from the doorway, watching it sail over Padma Patil’s head. She darted back out, ignoring the giggles she heard from Mandy Brocklehurst and Lisa Turpin. 

“I’m ready now,” she announced when she came back down, seeing Draco crouching near one of the bookshelves and examining one of the books.

“Can I take this one?” he asked, holding up _Principles of Potions for Prodigies_. 

“Sure,” she said, casting him a smirk when he tucked it under his robes and followed her out the door. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, letting his hand come down beside hers. “Get enough sleep?”

“Yes, certainly, your bed is very comfortable. No wonder you’re not a morning person.”

“Well, you’re not a morning person either.”

“I’m just a raging bitch for every little reason, so that explains it…”

They both chuckled, and Draco moved to take her hand in his. “I was thinking, I could talk to Umbridge. See if she’ll let you, Potter, and the Weasleys back on the team.”

“That’s sweet of you… but she’d tell your father and mine. You’d get in trouble.”

“I could at least try. Maybe not right away… maybe wait a few weeks so that she gets occupied in other stuff. She’ll have cooled down by then.”

“I appreciate it, and I’m sure the twins and Harry would, too, but I don’t know if there’s a point to trying. Umbridge despises Harry and I and she definitely doesn’t appreciate the twins.”

Draco exhaled rather loudly. “Alright. I just feel bad. It was all my fault and I didn’t get punished. It’s not a good feeling, guilt.”

“No, it isn’t a good feeling. And… yes, it was mostly your fault, but even if you advocated for them, there is no way she’d change anything. She’s too much like my father— what she says goes and stays in place until she herself thinks to change it.”

“I am so sick of her presence in this school. She needs to go. And whoever is the Defense Professor next year better not be an arse or I’ll kill them myself…”

Kit snorted. “Yes, I expect you’ll really lose your mind with the next one, considering the pattern we’ve seen just in our years. Parasitic host to the Dark Lord who pretended to have a speech impairment, dead. Photogenic thief of heroics who couldn’t teach a class to save his life, suffering of memory loss in St. Mungo’s. Lupin was perfect, though, I really liked him.”

“So did half the girls in the school,” said Draco, smirking and nudging her in the side. “I bet you were the type to have a crush on him.”

“I didn’t have a crush on him, he’s my _sister’s_ age.”

“Well if you say it like that to someone without context, it wouldn’t seem so bad. You’d have to point out that your sister was eighteen years older than you!”

“Yes, I forgot that crucial fact. Say, now that we’re on the subject, I wonder if my sister and him ever had a thing.”

“I doubt it. You said she was an item with my cousin-uncle Sir— Snuffles, sorry. Her type was clearly ‘bad boys’ and he was probably one of those diligent students who did all his assignments— kind of like Hermione.”

“Okay, so based on what you’re saying, if I were Alana in this situation, and you and Hermione were best friends, my type would be you.”

Draco blushed. “Um, yeah. Anyway— Lupin was a good Professor, I agree with that. He was smart and patient. I hate the subject of Defense a lot now, but that year… I didn’t. The class was really ridiculous to me at the time, but I think it was mostly because I didn’t know how good we had it, with such an experienced Professor. In hindsight, especially after everything I’ve learned with you and Blaise… that was the best year.”

Kit smiled and nudged him in return. “Maybe you’re the one who fancied Professor Lupin.”

The blond’s cheeks turned pink. “I would never fancy a Professor.”

“HA! But you didn’t say Lupin wasn’t attractive.”

“Kit Kat, do you know how _weird_ it would be if I spoke aloud how—”

“—how you _swooned_ for him,” she teased, pulling away to spin around and giggle. “How you looked up to him and his intelligence. How you found him dashing and—”

Draco caught her before she could keep twirling, and steadied her in front of him. Her vision blurred only slightly when she looked up at him, having been getting dizzy. He brought his hands up to cup her face.

“I don’t want to talk about whether or not I found a previous Professor good looking,” he said quietly, his thumb running over her lips again. “Not when I’m with you— the smart, fiery, and beautiful girl that I _actually_ fancy.”

Just like that, she had gone weak at the knees.

“I’m sorry,” he said, letting go of her. “I-I know our agreement was just to snog, no feelings yet, and I know I’m definitely not at a gold-star level for behavior, right now, but—”

She didn’t need him to finish. She cut him off with a kiss, bringing her arms around his neck, draping them down his back and grasping his shirt hard as she tiptoed to press her lips against his with more force.

Needless to stay, they spent more time in a broom closet with their mouths locked together than patrolling the castle. 

And that’s where the complications came back. The happiness hadn’t lasted. At this point, Kit just knew she was cursed. That’s what she got for being a Thompson.

The buzz had started early at breakfast the next day when _The Daily Prophet_ had arrived. Not a lot of students took out subscriptions anymore. The only ones in Ravenclaw were Marcus Belby, a sixth year, and Su, who loved reading the articles when she was bored, and enjoyed remaining informed to begin with. Aside from that, Kit hardly recalled who else got it regularly. Hermione for sure.... Blaise…. most of the Professors…. but otherwise… her mind was blank. 

The majority of the Great Hall had been discussing their classes for the term rather the disturbing headline on the front page— a terrifying statement that would haunt Kit incessantly from thereon out.

“ **MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN - MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS ‘RALLYING POINT’ FOR OLD DEATH EATERS** ”

Immediately, she had snatched the paper from Su, her eyes wide. She knew the idiots in the Ministry still thought Sirius was a Death Eater— rather stupid of them to not investigate sufficiently or at least believe what Harry had already told them months ago.

There were ten black-and-white photographs that filled the whole front page. Nine of them belonged to wizards and one to a witch. Some of the people in the photographs were silently jeering; others were tapping their fingers on the frame of their pictures, looking insolent. Each picture was captioned with a name and the crime for which the person had been sent to Azkaban.

 _Antonin Dolohov,_ read the legend beneath a wizard with a long, pale, twisted face who was sneering up at the camera, _convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett_.

“Prewett?” said Su in a deadly whisper. “Those— those were Ron’s uncles! My father knew them!” 

_Augustus Rookwood,_ said the caption beneath a pockmarked man with greasy hair who was leaning against the edge of his picture, looking bored, _convicted of leaking Ministry of Magic secrets to He Who Must Not Be Named._

Rookwood. Kit recognized that name— he had been one of her father’s colleagues. He’d mentioned that he’d even been helping him find a wife in the past, to produce heirs for the Rookwood line, as he was their last hope at survival. 

_Torquil Travers II_ , beneath a man with grey hair and pasty white skin, who looked severely malnourished, _convicted of the murder of the McKinnon family and Alexander Li._

At this, Su burst into tears and sprinted out of the hallway. With a pain in her side, Kit realized that Su hadn’t known who exactly killed her father all those years ago. All she had ever heard was that he died in the war, serving the Order of the Phoenix. Abandoning the newspaper and refusing to read further, Kit followed after her, finding her in the entrance hall clutching her chest and leaning against a pillar.

“Su,” she said gently, offering her hand. “Let’s go somewhere else. The kitchens, maybe.”

The girl nodded, weakly taking her hand. Kit no longer cared about anything else— just making sure that Su was okay. 

The problem was the knowledge she had left behind.

Draco had been with Blaise at the Slytherin table, still reading to see who else they recognized. 

_Basil Mulciber II,_ beneath a man with greasy hair similar to Professor Snape’s, but with the distinct pointy face that curled up into a dirty look, _convicted of aiding in leaking Ministry of Magic secrets to He Who Must Not Be Named._

“That’s the uncle of the Mulciber boys,” mumbled Blaise. “The ones that were also contestants for Kit’s er— hand in marriage. They disgust me.”

“Tell me about it,” Draco said, wincing and looking at three of the frames featuring sickly, wild-eyed looking men who made him feel very uncomfortable, due to the way they glared at the camera with a sadistic type of hunger. He didn’t recognize their names anyway, and they’d all been convicted of either murder or information leaking.

 _Bellatrix Lestrange,_ under a dark, wild-haired and wild-eyed woman with heavy lidded eyes and an arrogant, disdainful smile, _convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom._

“Longbottom?” said Blaise quietly. “Oh…. oh crap. That’s why he only ever mentions his grandmother…”

Draco felt sick. He had not known about Neville’s parents. With a pang, he recalled all the cruel things he’d said and done to the boy. He bit his lip hard, drawing blood, and ignoring the pain. The guilt was rising, considering that he knew Bellatrix was his aunt… his mother’s eldest sister, the one who shunned his other aunt Andromeda, who he’d never met, all because she married a Muggle-born. He recalled his mother talking about Andromeda, how as children, she and Bellatrix had been very close, due to their close ages and similar looks. But Bellatrix had betrayed her sister for simply following her heart. 

_Rodolphus Lestrange_ , _convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom._

 _Rabastan Lestrange_ , _convicted of the murder of the Bones family and of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom._

The familiarity of their faces chilled Draco to the bone. The Lestrange brothers, as many years apart as they were in age, shared shaggy, unkempt dark beards and a cruel gaze up at the camera, with small, sickening smirks as if saying _‘and I’ll do it again…’_ He had seen their pictures from ages ago— from when Rodolphus and Bellatrix married, and from when Rabastan’s engagement had been announced to Alana Thompson (his mother still had that picture hidden in her drawer).

“Draco,” Blaise said quietly, his voice slightly shaky as he glanced down at a much smaller frame that they hadn’t initially noticed. The woman in it was not immediately familiar to either of them. Frizzy, matted hair falling to her hips in wild tangles. A dirty, thin face, with sunken dark eyes and thin, chapped lips. She resembled Bellatrix in the sense that it was obvious that before, both women had been extremely beautiful, but had been ruined by their clearly long stay in Azkaban.

“This was why,” breathed Draco slowly. “Kit— she mentioned that her father held back a lot in torturing her. And that random business he had…”

_Alana Lestrange-Thompson, convicted of the murder of the Bones family, of leading, planning, and executing the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom, and of attempting to murder their young son._


	50. Chapter 50

**By the time Draco found Kit, it was too late to ease the spread of information to the rest of the school.**

She had hardly reacted when he told her. Calm, collected, but mostly blank-faced, she had stared at the parchment, not sure what to think. She wasn’t sure what reaction would be appropriate. Relief that her sister wasn’t dead? Horror that her sister was responsible for what’d happened to Neville’s parents? Confusion because her life was a lie, and her parents had known Alana’s whereabouts this entire time?

“I have to write to Alastor,” said Kit shakily when Draco urged her to sit down in the Slytherin Common Room later in the evening, once she had fully processed what’d happened. By then, he had escorted Su and Kit to the Ravenclaw Common Room to make sure that Su wasn’t alone at the moment. But he had taken Kit away out of fear of how her fellow Ravenclaws would react. 

As it turned out, everyone reacted badly.

At the moment, Kit was the only student in the school that was directly related to one of the escaped Death Eaters. Not many knew of Draco’s relation to Bellatrix, but most people didn’t like Draco anyway, therefore nothing was changed. None of the convicts were parents, and the only one who bore a relation to a younger person was Mulciber, but his nephews had already graduated, and therefore didn’t count.

She had stared at the picture of her mad sister for hours. This could not possibly be the same Alana who Sirius had loved. The one who had visited him and made sure he was away from his abusive mother. The girl that Narcissa talked about in such a positive light, the caring and intelligent graduate. 

She wanted desperately to believe that this was a lie, that this was just an Alana look-alike. Or better yet, that she was in a similar instance of mind control.

But that theory was a bit more difficult to go with. Her father had had to refresh the curse on her mother several times. If Alana had been in Azkaban, the curse wouldn’t have been refreshed, and she would have been lucid and not escaped. 

Needing clarification, Kit had set off to owl Alastor immediately, and had included a message for Sirius. She couldn’t imagine what he was feeling right now. He thought he had lost his lover, but now she was back, and apparently, one of the worst of the escaped bunch. And on top of that, Cornelius Fudge was insistent on him being a Death Eater, which meant he would have to wait even longer to leave Grimmauld Place safely.

The wait between sending the letter and receiving a reply was terrible. Kit had heard whispers since the day the article came out— whispers of her name. Of how she was related to Alana Lestrange-Thompson, how Alana was married to Rabastan, who was the brother of Rodolphus, who was married to Bellatrix….

She had tried to distract herself with her friends. She let Hermione, Ron, and Harry talk her ear off about how some bloke named Broderick Bode who worked in the Department of Mysteries had been killed by a Devil’s Snare disguised as a potted plant. She worked tirelessly with Mimi to support Su, who was feeling very distraught at the news that her father’s killer was at large once more, which was made worse by the fact that she hadn’t been able to make contact with her mother yet. 

But it wasn’t enough to draw away the constant talking behind her back.

It was all everyone was talking about. Many students had grown up hearing those Death Eater names out of knowledge of what was done to their families, or family friends. They were scared, and it made sense. Teachers were whispering about it in the halls, but would stop quickly when students approached. Soon, however, most had had to resort to being more quiet about it. 

_BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS_

_Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach._

_The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty‐six._

_Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor_

At first, Kit thought it might be the first time she ever slightly appreciated something Umbridge did, just because it might keep students from talking about it if they could no longer ask teachers for clarification regarding recent events. 

But it had just proved to be more restrictive, because several students had tried to make a joke of it. Lee Jordan had pointed out to Umbridge that by the terms of the new rule she was not allowed to tell Fred and George off for playing Exploding Snap in the back of the class.

“Exploding Snapʹs got nothing to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor! Thatʹs not information relating to your subject!”

That had granted him a detention and stopped many from making jokes, which encouraged further whispers away from the ears of Umbridge. 

On top of that, Hagrid was on probation despite Kit’s efforts at getting him a new evaluation. Professor Trelawney was on probation as well, but since Kit had never taken Divination, she was not paying too close attention to it. But according to Harry, Trelawney was close to cracking under the stress of having Umbridge watching her every class period. Kit noticed it with Hagrid too, who had pushed Hermione, Ron, and Harry away from visiting him. 

Kit just wished that all the bad thoughts running through people’s mind hadn’t fixated on her.

First, it was Susan Bones who stopped talking to her. She had seen her in Herbology, and the girl had purposely moved away, which led to Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan steering away from Kit as well, not to mention Justin Finch-Fletchley and Zacharias Smith. None of them really talked to her that much to begin with, but Zacharias Smith didn’t refrain from saying rather nasty things when he knew she was around, and Kit noticed how obvious Hannah and Susan and the other boys avoided her during DA meetings.

Next had come Neville. Kit had tried to approach him, to apologize and offer support, and at first he had awkwardly told her it wasn’t her fault, but he soon began to ignore her as well to avoid any uncomfortable conversations. During DA meetings, he was working extra hard, which was good in the sense he was progressing quickly. But she could see the determination in his eyes— the concealed anger. He wanted vengeance. And once or twice, she noticed him glaring at her from across the room before performing a spell, as if visualizing destroying her face. 

Most hurtful of all had been Mimi. It surprised Kit that it was Mimi rather than Su who was shunning her. But she realized quickly that Mimi, Terry, and Anthony were the only ones of her closest friends who did not know the truth behind her parents’ abuse and how she was raised. By then, Harry and Ron were aware, and both Hermione and Su had learned the truth to its fullest extent. Terry and Anthony remained speaking to Kit, and even Su found solace in being close to her, but Mimi had withdrawn to begin spending more time with Padma, Mandy, and Lisa. 

At the very least, Blaise, Hermione, Su, and Draco had remained as consistent in her life as they had been for years. Blaise was there when she needed to rant about how distraught she felt at this turn of events. Hermione and Su helped to distract her by discussing their own problems, which involved the boys they fancied as well as other stresses. Draco was being supportive with continued snogging sessions and cuddles just when Kit needed them most. Even Harry and Ron were being nicer to Kit lately, and keeping her mind occupied from drifting off into worry land. 

When Moody had finally replied, Kit had felt elated for the first time in awhile, though it did not change the pressure she was under. Tearing the letter open, she had translated back the runes before going to the Slytherin Common Room and going into the dormitory alone with Blaise and Draco, who had managed to get Theo, Crabbe, and Goyle out of the room.

_“Kit,_

_It’s taken me awhile to gather all the information I can, and you’re not going to like it. I have been consistently investigating your sister’s disappearance since it was reported, and I am as shocked as you are that she was in Azkaban this entire time._

_According to my many sources, this was planned since the moment she was engaged to Rabastan Lestrange. Your father knew she was going to get involved in Death Eater business and he prepared a plan for the day they were caught, because he knew it would happen. Some men with more power than me in the Ministry were paid a very rich sum to have a very special cell saved in Azkaban for Alana._

_We are searching as relentlessly as we can to find them before something goes wrong. But the eleven of them are working together, and there is some incredibly dark magic at play. Additionally, your father is likely helping them with funds and spells, which makes them all the more dangerous at the moment. Thompson Manor has been searched— no trace of your parents or sister, or her husband and in laws._

_From what we know in terms of reports, your sister was indeed the one who planned the attack on the Longbottoms. I cannot disclose why they were targeted, but your sister was working her way up to be You Know Who’s lieutenant alongside Bellatrix, who mentored her. She came up with the plan. She and Rabastan killed the main Bones family who was aiding the Order at the time, father, mother, and kids. They met Bellatrix and Rodolphus and tortured Frank and Alice, who as you know, were Aurors. The others left to be chased by those who responded to the scene, and your sister was left behind to kill the baby. She did not succeed, likely because your father took her away before she could finish it, out of fear she’d be caught. She had no trial— she was taken into a private cell in Azkaban and was preserved there until recently. Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan were tried publicly. At the moment, we have determined that your father used mind control to have anyone other than the men he paid forget her presence in Azkaban, and keep it under wraps. But when she escaped, one of the men came forward to tell the truth behind her being hidden there, and he has since disappeared._

_So far, we have no leads that indicate she was under mind control herself, but after what you told me about your mother, we aren’t ruling it out. I have instructed for her to be brought in unharmed so that if she is in a trance, she can be broken out of it and declared innocent, just like your mother. But things aren’t looking good right now, and we aren’t sure when things will come together._

_Owl me if your father contacts you at all. It is very important._

_Alastor.”_

Kit’s saliva felt very thick when she swallowed. “Well… he certainly wrote a more developed letter this time,” she said in a small voice. 

“How the hell didn’t _he_ know she was in there?” mumbled Draco. “He’s supposed to be the best Auror and whatnot! I’m sure he would have found out sooner!”

Blaise grimaced. “We were just talking the other day about anonymous pay offs. The Thompsons are loaded, way more than the Zabini and Malfoy vaults in Gringotts, I’m sure.”

“My mother knew she was in there, too,” said Kit. “When she was out of her trance, she said to get her. So… so maybe she knows the truth behind it. If I just get her out for a longer time—”

“Kit Kat, you got beat last time that happened!” Draco said immediately. “And even you mentioned your father was holding back— either because he was worried about pulling off this escape, or because he was happy to get his slimy friends out! Next time, it will be worse. I don’t want you getting yourself hurt anymore, seriously.”

There was a silence between the three of them.

“Um, maybe see what Sirius sent now,” Blaise murmured, nudging to an uncoded letter still tucked under Moody’s parchment.

_“Kit,_

_I don’t know how to feel about this news, and I expect you don’t either. I am in shock. There is a lot that I do not understand and am working to find out. Please stay strong, we will see each other soon and we’ll figure this out. I don’t believe it’s possible for this to really be Alana’s doing. She isn’t that person, and she was friends with Alice when they were at Hogwarts. I refuse to believe that she was the one that planned her torture. Something is fishy here, and I will do everything I can to figure it out. Adhere to whatever Mad-Eye instructed— these people are dangerous and will stop at nothing to gain power. Be cautious around Draco Malfoy._

_Sirius.”_

Draco turned a bit pink when they collectively read the last line, but quickly cleared his throat. “He’s probably just worried about you because of my father, don’t worry, I’m not insulted or anything,” he said quickly. To himself, he thought, about how right Sirius was. He had not yet told Kit about his father’s letter. He knew she was in danger anywhere near him, and it pained him to know that she wasn’t safe in the place he wanted her to be— with him.

“Let’s brainstorm, then,” suggested Blaise. “Barty Crouch Jr. told you last year how he was supposed to marry Alana, right? But she went with Rabastan.”

“Yes,” said Kit. “He was mad because he wanted Alana. I’m guessing he knew about how my father got Karkaroff out from being in Azkaban— maybe even knew that he kept my sister hidden there. If he did know, that’d make sense why he hates my father so much. He’s his godfather and didn’t help him, and didn’t give him a chance to marry Alana even though he thought they were going to be together.”

Draco pursed his lips. “Then there’s this whole mind controlling business. My father has never mentioned it, but he does always remind me how powerful your father is. The types of magic he’s studied… and developed… it’s been happening for awhile with the Thompson line, more so when the Smith line merged with them.”

Kit wrung her hands together before extracting her wand and setting the pieces of parchment on fire so that there would be no evidence of Sirius’s correspondence. “This is really concerning. But for now, I really…. really want to hope that Alana is just under mind control. I won’t know until I see her, and maybe try and trigger her. It will be a lot harder, though, because I’ve never met her, and if she’s been in Azkaban… even if she was under the curse at the time when she tortured the Longbottoms and killed the Bones, then she’s probably gone insane by now. She was more isolated than the others. And with the way she looks in that picture… I don’t think she’ll ever be herself again.”

They left off the conversation at that, because it was becoming far too morbid for Kit’s likings, and it was drowning her in a sea of confusion and wonder. 

The coming weeks were no better. While Kit had adjusted to the fact that many were being hostile with her, it really hurt. She tried to spend more time in the Gryffindor Common Room, where almost everyone there was still very nice to her. The twins had been cracking jokes more often, and even Dean Thomas had offered to parter up with her for a few exercises at DA meetings so that she would have something to focus on instead of the rude stares that several of her classmates were sending her. Neville had started to come around enough to stop glaring at her, but Kit could tell he was still very much angry with her presence. 

It was worse for the others, too. Ron was having no luck in becoming a better Keeper. Harry was not grasping the concept of Occlumency, and she hadn’t yet received a response from Moody regarding whether she should join Harry in the lessons (though the answer seemed it might be no). Hermione, Su, and Blaise were more stressed than usual with the prospect of O.W.L.s dawning so near. Something was clearly wrong with Draco, who always seemed to hold back a lot of important words.

On Valentine’s Day, a Hogsmeade visit was scheduled, but Kit had no intention of going. Hermione had told them she was planning something (though only Blaise seemed to know the truth). Ron had practice, and Su had offered to go watch and show her support. Harry apparently had a date with Cho, which excited Kit, hoping it would go well. 

She walking aimlessly around the castle for the majority of the day until around noon, thinking to herself. She felt very at ease that day, and ran through the past year’s events in her head, at first simply trying to get some sort of understanding in for what was happening now with her sister having been alive this entire time. It felt good to be in tune with her emotions, even though she didn’t really like the idea of making herself so vulnerable, even when it was a one on one kind of thing. It amazed her that she was still around after everything. It also made her blush when she fixated on how much had changed since her and Draco started reconnecting.

Thinking of Draco made her approach him at lunch in the Great Hall. They ate together at the Slytherin table. The Great Hall was quite empty, since almost everyone was either on a date or wallowing in their dorms because they were without romantic attachments. Afterward, Kit managed to convince him to walk around the castle some more with her. 

“So, are you ever going to tell me what’s stressing you out?” she prompted, her arms tucked behind her back. “I think we should talk about it. No one is really here today, things will be okay.”

Draco winced. “I don’t want to burden you with my problems.”

“I don’t want to be insistent but it’s not good for you to be bottling things up. I’ve been feeling really overwhelmed since the Care of Magical Creatures incident and once I got over my anger, I really did benefit from talking about it with people. I encourage you to do the same.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Is it?” said Kit, stopping in front of him, and feeling an impulsive need to just spill everything in her mind at the moment. After all, they weren’t likely to be disturbed, and at this point, it might be more dangerous for him to _not_ know what was going on. “Did I tell you that my father sent me a bloody hand in the mail? A hand? No, I didn’t. But you know what? It feels better to tell you now so that at least you know. Guess what else? I’m terrified. Terrified that my father is going to hurt you. He swore he would if I acted out again, which is another reason I was so shocked when he didn’t kill me over the holiday. So yes, it feels terrible to tell you this but I think you should know.”

He visibly gulped, and for a few seconds, simply stared at his feet. He then looked to the empty hallway behind her before taking her hand and pulling her down the hall wordlessly, into an empty classroom. 

“My father threatened you, too,” he muttered, leaning against the dusty blackboard. “The day I showed you the letter from my mother. He didn’t want me to tell you, and I didn’t want to say anything because I know you have such a difficult time letting things like that slide by. But if both our fathers are making threats… then at least now we know.”

Kit came closer, taking his hands and sitting down on the desk in front of him, gazing up. “Thank you for telling me. I think…. we really need to start planning for the future.”

“The future? What do you mean?”

She bit her lip. “Money— we’ll need money to get away. Maybe I can’t break my mother out of her trance, and maybe I can’t run away with her, but you and I could run away together. I mean, we have to get married anyway. If we did it earlier, we could have more protection and benefits.”

“Kit Kat, you’re being too impulsive about this,” he said. “Even if you— if you start withdrawing funds or something little by little, it isn’t going to be enough. Nothing is going to be enough.”

“Look, I’m just trying to pitch in ideas, since we are being honest with each other. My father has a house in Italy— I can claim it, and we’d be safe—”

He let go of her hands. “Absolutely not. We just admitted we’re both being threatened! We’re not going to put targets on our back and run away. Things just got more complicated! Murderers are on the loose and one of them is your sister, who may not be in her right mind _ever_!”

He had raised his voice a bit out of the agitation, feeling worried of what Kit was so rashly suggesting. She gritted her teeth. “It was just an idea, no need to get your knickers in a twist!”

“You know I’m not insulting you, right? I just really don’t think it wise! I’m scared of my father and even more so of yours!”

“I am scared too! But I just keep thinking and I’m sick of feeling helpless— we could at least have a backup plan ready for whatever reason! Things are going to get worse, Draco, and we need to be ready for that! We’re not going to live forever anyway, so we might as well do the best we can. If we could even put a stop to them—”

“Do you hear yourself?” Draco spat, making Kit stand up. “Is this what you called me over here for? To try and hound me into doing what you want? No! I’m not going to just go with it if it puts you in danger!”

“We already established that! I didn’t call you here to fight, Draco,” she said a bit more weakly, not wanting her temper to get the better of her. “First of all, I was lonely. Even though most of my close friends are still by my side, people are ignoring me. For something that isn’t my fault at all, and maybe not my sister’s fault either! And I wanted the truth— the real truth about our emotions because let’s face it, the best thing we can do right now is be honest about everything so we don’t miss anything, so we’re prepared for what’s coming!”

Draco shook his head. “I can understand the honesty part, but planning ahead like this is unwise. I can’t risk it, Kit Kat, my father wants me to help Umbridge, and if he even dares to hurt you, it will break me!”

“You don’t think it’ll break me if my father does the same?” her own voice was rising now. “In this time that everyone is turning against me, I’ve had time to properly _think_. And we are in a position that sucks, I know it. When I pitched the idea, I didn’t mean to rile you up. Like I had said, I just want the truth—”

“You want the truth?” Draco snapped, making Kit shrink back as she saw his face turning red with frustration. “The truth is I tried so bloody hard to reject you so you wouldn’t end up with someone like me. I fancied you since we were kids, Kit. KIDS! I barely even bloody knew what it meant, but I liked you! I thought it would be easy, I thought you’d be in Slytherin, but you weren’t! And I was already making enemies because of my stupid attitude and for listening to my father, so you know what I did? I pushed you away! And it was stupid, yes, but I thought it was the right thing to do so I’d never have to explain myself to you!”

He paused just enough to lean back again, not wanting to get all in her face. “All I’ve ever done is make you insecure,” he said a bit more hoarsely. “I’ve used horrible words to address your friends. I’ve tried to hurt anyone who challenged me, and I did it all for no reason. I can’t justify it. And I won’t dare excuse it. Even now I still can’t behave properly. I’m too fucked up, can’t you see that? And you— you keep coming after me! You were nice to me even when I didn’t deserve it! I fucking fat-shamed the Weasley mother as if it was any of my business, and I got what I had coming! But you— you came to comfort me after I got transfigured into a ferret. Even when I did so many wrong things, you never fully abandoned me! Even when I hurt you! You… you made it so difficult for me to stay away! So I fucking tried— even though I knew that I was bad for you! I let myself care about you again because that felt….” Kit gulped when she realize he’d teared up. “That felt like the most right thing in my entire life. The one thing I was certain about. 

“But you deserve someone better. And yet, I fucked that up. When Cedric was trying to befriend you, I tried to stop it. When our arranged marriage was announced, I was fine with it because I thought maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. And for awhile it was okay— but now, nothing is okay! Nothing will ever be okay! Our families are stupid and terrible and I’ve watched you get hurt way too many times! I’m not okay with that, Kit Kat. You deserve someone like Potter. He’s got baggage of his own but he NEVER used it against people the way I did. He’s never mistreated someone just for the hell of it, and he’s always been kind to you. He trusts you because you’re so approachable, Kit. You should be with someone like him.”

“B-But I don’t like H-Harry,” said Kit in a small voice. “I fancy _you_.”

“Well you shouldn’t!” he insisted, coming forward to grab her face as if making her look at him would be a proper way to get his point across. “Everything is too complicated! It’s unsafe for us to be together! As much as I hate even… even thinking about you being with someone else… as much as I despise the image of you with Potter… him touching you, holding you, kissing you— he’s the better option here! Literally anyone else is the better option!”

He let go of her face and sank back, falling into one of the chairs. Clearly, there was a lot of emotion that he was barely letting out into the open, accumulated over years. Years of stress that he hadn’t trusted anyone with. The truth. “I would never force you into this marriage, Kit, which is honestly the least of our problems right now,” he whispered. “I would never wish for you to get stuck with me, someone who could get you _killed_. That’s why I can’t— I can’t support you having an idea to use it for us to run away. I can’t support an idea that would put us in greater danger than we already are. So if… if one day you realize what I’m saying and you realize how bad I am for you, and you want to one day go down the tedious path of getting this marriage disbanded, to save yourself from my family and yours… I’ll support you. I don’t fucking care if it gets me killed. I will do _anything_ to keep you safe. I don’t want you to _ever_ feel obligated to be with someone who will hurt you. It's inevitable. I can’t control it. I’m too mean. Your friends are right to dislike me. They can see what I’m trying to tell you. I’m bad for you. You— you shouldn’t care this much about me, Kit! As much as it pains me to think of the fact that this… this would mean losing you… I don’t care, as long as it keeps you out of harm's way. You have no idea… no idea how much you mean. Hell, Kit, I’ve never thought about a girl the way I think about you. I want— Merlin, the things I want to do to you right now, I’d get a bar of soap in my mouth for voicing it!” 

He was crying. Tears running down his pale cheeks, collecting down his jawline and falling onto the desk below him, caked in dust. His hands were shaking, and Kit did the only thing she thought would help— she took them. Her fingers delicately laced with his, her thumbs pressing over spots on the side of his hand and caressing them gently. He squeezed his eyes shut for an instant, too overwhelmed to say any more. When he opened them, he glanced down at the faded scar on the back of her hand— ‘ _I must hold my tongue_.’

“I don’t want anyone else,” she said gently. “I want you. And I will also do anything to keep you safe. This isn’t something meaningless to me, Draco. You have grown so much. You are changing and I am so beyond proud of you. Deep down you are a good man and my friends are noticing that about you, too. Whatever your concerns, I want to hear them. I want to be there for you to rant. I want us to work through them together. I refuse to abandon you. I refuse to let you go through anything alone. I know the control your father has and I will find a way to keep you safe from it. I care too much about you to let myself lose you. I want you in my life.”

When their lips connected, the emotions began to pour out again. But it was different this time, with a greater understanding and passion that either had ever experienced before. Explosive, angry, fueled by fear and want. Kit and Draco practically beat each other up in the process. Her hands traveled from his hair, which she tugged aggressively, to his shoulders, which she dug her nails into, to his hips, which she placed an unbearable amount of pressure on with her fingertips, pulling him to stand. Draco didn’t want to hurt her, but he couldn’t help but snake his hand through her hair and grasp a fistful of it roughly to lean her head to a better position for him to practically dive his tongue into her mouth, only pulling away to kiss every last inch of her exposed neck as he pressed her up against the wall. His other hand roamed over every lower and upper part of her body, squeezing hard enough to leave contusions, especially once he wrapped his coarse palm around her throat to hold her steady as he sucked on an area just under her jaw, and even more so when he brought it down to her thigh, bringing her leg up to partially hook around him. Kit’s legs trembled and gave out on her from the ecstasy, and Draco roughly picked her up to the best of his abilities, gripping her bruisingly tight as he ground his hips into hers, their lips meeting as aggressively as before once again, causing Kit to make a noise so heavenly that it took far too much willpower for Draco to eventually stop. 

It was only in hindsight that he realized how many marks he’d left on her, as well as the fact that she’d done her share of scratching as well— she’d even managed to tear through a small piece of his shirt. When they had finished, Draco groaned and arched his neck back. “Forget what I said about wanting you with someone better,” he said half-jokingly in a low, guttural pant that made Kit’s skin prickle with goosebumps. “I never want to imagine you snogging someone else in this way.”

She let out a breathy gasp in response, her eyes closed as she leaned her head forward to kiss his neck where she could see his carotid pulsating heavily beside his bouncing adam’s apple. “The snogs have certainly gotten better since the first time,” she squeaked, her voice too uneven. She could scarcely breathe. 

Draco didn’t want to set her down just yet, but he did, fearing they might get ahead of themselves if they didn’t get to a solid rest point. She trembled and nearly collapsed when her feet touched ground again, but he held her steadily enough, pressing their foreheads together.

“You are,” he wheezed lightly, “the most amazing creature I have ever laid eyes on. All those insecurities you had or have… all those things about yourself that you think are flaws… they’re the most beautiful parts of you, Kit Kat. You’ve always been gorgeous. You just didn’t know it before.”

Even in a war, there were certain days that made Kit hopeful that one day, all their troubles would be over, and freedom would reign.

One day, they’d be safe.

_Happy 50th chapter! Made it nice and long, so hope you enjoyed ;) we still have a long way to go, but I hope you are enjoying this story so far._


	51. Chapter 51

**The next days were actually pretty good for Kit.**

She was spending practically every free moment in the Slytherin Common Room with Draco. It was a miracle she hadn’t been reported to Umbridge yet. Snape no longer cared to give her detentions and Kit wasn’t having any issues with the Slytherin students that would make any of them rat her out. Perhaps it was because they were scared to anger Draco, who was not caring to be private about his arrangement with Kit. Twice already, Slytherin Quidditch Captain Montague had caught them snogging on his way to pull Draco to practice. And Draco was very liberal when it came to kicking other students out of broom closets and other spaces that could keep them hidden from Umbridge.

At one point, they had had their lips locked together whilst stumbling around against the wall trying to find a door to open. Draco had yanked on the handle of one of the closets and had thrown it open, pushing Kit inside, but she had soon yelped when she collided with two other people who were very much in shock.

Terry’s hand had been down Anthony’s pants when Kit so unceremoniously crashed into them. Her eyes had gone wide and she’d pushed Draco back, trying to close the door before he saw them, but it was too late.

Draco didn’t look shocked, however, nor did he look angry. He just pulled Kit out of the closet and closed the door. “Sorry,” he called. “Next time, remember to lock it.” He then turned to the very flustered girl beside him. “Well? Hurry up, come on, we need to find an unoccupied closet before I—”

But Terry and Anthony stumbled out, both fixing their clothes and wiping their mouths. “We were just finishing,” said Anthony with a bit more of a playful smirk as Terry, mortified, covered his face. “Please, have at it.”

“I’m so sorry,” stammered Kit awkwardly, feeling her face burning. “We won’t say anything—”

“Yeah, I promise we won’t,” said Draco, who could care less about what those two had been doing. His greatest concern right now was not delaying his and Kit’s snog session any further. “Kit Kat, seriously, the wait is killing me, you can ask them for tips or something later—”

At this, both Anthony and Terry let out loud snorts that turned into a fit of laughter. Their embarrassment was forgotten, and a very red-faced Kit stared up at a smirking Draco who had definitely not been thinking when he spoke, but wasn’t about to take it back either.

“I’m sorry,” said Draco again, more impatiently. “Please, let’s just hurry.”

“We’ll do you a solid this one time, Malfoy, don’t worry,” managed Terry, winking back at Kit as he and Anthony left down the hall, still laughing. 

“‘ _You can ask the for tips or something later_?’” Kit hissed, covering her face as she went into the closet. “What is the _matter_ with you?”

Draco grinned and closed and locked the door behind them. “It just came out, sorry, I was desperate.”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy! There is a time and place for such vulgar thoughts!”

“I thought this was that time, Katherine Cordelia Thompson! Snogs are a perfect place for steaminess…”

Trying to dissuade the situation since Draco was still very obviously laughing, Kit leaned back. “Let’s at least remember to blacklist the names Lucius, Kenneth, and Cordelia from our future baby names list.”

Draco made a face and stuck his tongue out at her. “Ew, let’s scratch ‘Draco’ from it too. There is no way in bloody hell I will force my kid to have my name. Better yet— let them choose.”

“Excuse me?” Kit said, looking bewildered. “What will we call them in the meantime?”

“Muffin One, Muffin Two, Muffin Three… according with their birth order, or something.”

Kit scrunched her nose up. “I don’t even find the prospect of having _one_ kid appealing. I don’t know about _three_.”

Draco shrugged. “Even better. No kids, no worrying about names. We can save any names for pets. We can get a Crup— those little things Hagrid brought to Care the other time.”

“We’ll name the Crup ‘Draco.’”

“Just shut up and snog me, Kit Kat.”

At least, the snog they’d had after that had been exceptionally nice. 

It was also nice that there was something to look forward to, outside the snogs. As it turned out, Hermione’s little scheme at Hogsmeade had consisted in Rita Skeeter reporting Harry’s story from the graveyard to the very finest detail, all to be published in _The Quibbler_. Luna had conveyed to Kit how excited she was for her father to publish it, though she did not know when exactly it would appear (she stated that her father was expecting a lovely long article on recent sightings of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks— “and of course, that’ll be a very important story, so Harry’s might have to wait for the following issue.”)

Harry had told Kit that he was excited, of course, but that he had felt a bit awkward having to give Rita all the details about that night. He was hopeful that readers would respond well, at least, considering the recent Azkaban breakouts, but he worried the credibility wouldn’t be up to par due to the article appearing alongside the writing about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. 

“So, how was your date with Cho?” Hermione asked Harry after dinner, when Kit had gone to sit at the Gryffindor table briefly. “You came so early to the interview.”

Harry grimaced. “Er— well… it was… a complete fiasco, now that you mention it.” He went into a very detailed relay of how things had gone, which made Kit wince. 

“...so then,” finished harry, “she jumps up, right, and says, ‘I’ll see you around, Harry’ and runs out of the place! I mean, what was all that about? What was going on?”

Kit and Hermione shared a look. “Oh, Harry,” said the Gryffindor sadly, “well— I’m sorry, but you were a bit tactless.”

“Me, tactless?” demanded Harry. “One minute we were getting on fine, next minute she was telling me that Roger Davies asked her out and how she used to go and snog Cedric in that stupid teashop— how was I spposed to feel about that?”

“I get you being irritated by that,” said Kit, “but the thing you told her about meeting Hermione. You probably shouldn’t have said that. She was really excited to spend time with you and you brought up another girl.”

Harry looked completely and utterly confused. “But— but—” he spluttered. “But— Hermione, you told me to meet you at twelve and bring her along— how was I supposed to do that without telling her?”

“You should have told her differently,” said Hermione patiently. “You should have said it was really annoying, but Iʹd made you promise to come along to the Three Broomsticks, and you really didnʹt want to go, youʹd much rather spend the whole day with her, but unfortunately you thought you really ought to meet me and would she please, please come along with you and hopefully youʹd be able to get away more quickly. And it might have been a good idea to mention how ugly you think I am, too.”

ʹʹBut I donʹt think youʹre ugly,” said Harry, bemused. Hermione and Kit laughed.

“Harry youʹre worse than Ron... well, no, youʹre not,” she sighed, as Ron himself came stumping into the Hall splattered with mud and looking grumpy. 

“The point is that she got jealous,” said Kit. “And she likely tried to do the same to you to to figure out how much you liked her. There is nothing wrong with Hermione being your best friend, you know, but since she doesn’t know her that well, she probably has a lingering thought that you might fancy her. So she was experimenting to see your reaction.”

Ron dropped onto the bench opposite Kit as Harry gave her a bewildered look. “Well wouldn’t it have been easier if she’d just asked me whether I liked her or Hermione better?”

“Girls don’t often ask questions like that,” chided Hermione.

“Not so openly,” added Kit.

“Well, they should!” said Harry forcefully. “Then I couldʹve just told her I fancy her, and she wouldnʹt have had to get herself all worked up again about Cedric dying!”

“She’s not fully over him, Harry, but she does really like you. It was insensitive for her to rub it in that way, but Hermione and I aren’t trying to back her up or anything— we’re just trying to help you understand what she was feeling. She’s felt guilty for moving on.”

Ron let out a groan at this. “You two should write a book. Translating mad things girls do so that boys can understand them.”

Hermione and Kit shared a look. “Well, not all boys struggle so much to understand girls,” said Hermione pointedly, glancing back over her shoulder toward the Slytherin table, where Blaise was in an apparently heated discussion with Theodore Nott about the quality of the potatoes they’d had for dinner.

“How was Quidditch, anyway?” asked Kit when Ginny, just as muddy as Ron, arrived and sat with them.

“It was a nightmare,” said Ron in a surly voice.

“Oh come on,” said Hermione, looking at Ginny, “Iʹm sure it wasnʹt that—”

“Yes, it was,” said Ginny. “It was appalling. Angelina was nearly in tears by the end of it.”

When Ron and Ginny went off to the baths, Kit sighed dejectedly and returned to her Common Room. Su was already up in bed, having been feeling under the weather, Mimi was still avoiding Kit and was likely with the other girls in the dormitory, and Terry and Anthony had still been in the Great Hall. Kit was on the couch for awhile, just planning ahead for a few assignments. At one point, she’d had a very short conversation with Marcus Belby and Eddie Carmichael, who advised her to start revisions for her O.W.L.s already. Kit had been about to go to bed when Marietta Edgecombe and Cho had passed near her.

“Oh, Kit!” said Cho, looking distraught as she sank down beside her. Kit and Marietta shared an awkward look, since neither liked the other. She then reverted her attention to Cho. “I saw you talking to Harry…. is he mad? I feel I’ve ruined everything but I can’t bring myself to speak with him, I feel so stupid…”

“He’s not _mad_ ,” said Kit, unsure how exactly to convey that Harry was thoroughly confused. “But er— there is room for improvement on both ends, you know, another try might be better. I think it just wasn’t a good day, since Hermione was bugging him with some other commitment and he was distracted. You hadn’t been on a date in awhile and he’d never been on one. Please do try and talk to him. You still have a chance.”

Cho half-smiled. “Thanks, Kit. We really do miss you in Quidditch.” She then left with Marietta, who just glared at Kit. The brunette shot her a dirty look in return, and Marietta huffed before looking away. 

That weekend, Kit had at least enjoyed the fact that the Hufflepuff v. Gryffindor match had ended quickly. Ron had missed over fourteen saves, Angelina had been hit in the mouth with Sloper’s Beater bat, and Kirke had fallen off his broom when Zacharias Smith shot past him with the Quaffle. Ginny caught the Snitch from right under Hufflepuff Seeker Summerby’s nose, but Gryffindor still lost (by ten points).

Su had gone to the Gryffindor Common Room for the very dismal aftermath of the match, and hadn’t returned to the dormitory until very late that night, reporting that poor Ron had been miserably silent the entire time she tried to coax him to at least eat or drink something. She had sat with him in hopes he might rant or something to alleviate his stress, but he’d simply pretended to fall asleep even when she escorted him to his dormitory, and she’d left very disappointed that she could not help.

The next morning, no one cared about the match anymore (aside from the Gryffindor team, since they were not currently in a good spot when it came to the finals). 

Kit and Su had arrived early to the Great Hall, and had been having an uplifting discussion regarding how to help Ron. The post owls arrived around the time that they saw Hermione, Ron, and Harry entered the Great Hall. Many students had recently taken subscriptions for the newspapers after what’d happened with the Azkaban breakouts, therefore more owls than usual were milling about. 

A small tawny owl had dropped a tight roll of parchment onto Su’s plate. She had taken it, unfurled it, and squealed. “Here it is! Oh— we must show Harry!”

The two girls got up and ran to the Gryffindor table, where Harry was receiving several letters. “Harry! Look!” Su cried, holding the parchment up. Luna, who had reached the table before them, revealed she had just given Harry his own copy of _The Quibbler_. This March edition bore his face on the front cover, grinning sheepishly. In large red letters beside it: SPEAKS OUT AT LAST: THE TRUTH ABOUT HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN.

“Itʹs good, isnʹt it?” said Luna happily as she, Kit, and Su sat down near the Weasley twins. “It came out yesterday, I asked Dad to send you a free copy. I expect all these,” she waved a hand at the assembled owls still scrabbling around on the table in front of Harry, “are letters from readers.”

“Thatʹs what I thought,” said Hermione eagerly. “Harry, dʹyou mind if we—?”

“Help yourself.”

Several hands reached toward the pile of envelopes, tearing them open. 

“This oneʹs from a bloke who thinks youʹre off your rocker,” said Ron, glancing down his letter. “Ah well…”

“This woman recommends you try a good course of Shock Spells at St. Mungoʹs,” said Hermione, looking disappointed and crumpling up a second.

“This one believes you!” said Su, deposition a letter in front of him. 

“This oneʹs in two minds,” said Fred. “Says you donʹt come across as a mad person, but he really doesnʹt want to believe You‐Know‐Whoʹs back so he doesnʹt know what to think now. Blimey, what a waste of parchment.”

“Hereʹs another one youʹve convinced, Harry!” said Hermione excitedly. “‘Having read your side of the story, I am forced to the conclusion that the Daily Prophet has treated you very unfairly... little though I want to think that He Who Must Not Be Named has returned, I am forced to accept that you are telling the truth... Oh, this is wonderful!”

“This man says his kids are bragging about you,” said Kit pleasantly, showing it to George, who smirked. “Blimey, you’ve got kids on your side, Harry, how does it feel?”

“Look, this one says you’ve got her converted,” cried Ron, “and now she thinks you’re a real hero— she’s put in a photograph, too— wow!”

“What is going on here?” said a falsely sweet, girlish voice.

They all whirled back, glancing away from the very large pile of envelopes that’d collected in front of Harry. Professor Umbridge was standing behind Fred and Luna, her bulging toadʹs eyes scanning the mess of owls and letters. Behind her, many of the other students had turned to watch avidly.

“Why have you got all these letters, Mr. Potter?” she asked slowly. 

“Is that a crime now?” said Fred loudly. “Getting mail?”

“Be careful, Mr. Weasley, or I shall have to put you in detention,” said Umbridge. “Well, Mr. Potter?”

Harry hesitated, but answered. “People have written to me because I gave an interview. About what happened to me last June.”

“An interview?” repeated Umbridge, her voice thinner and higher than ever. “What do you mean?”

“I mean a reporter asked me questions and I answered them,” said Harry savagely. “Here—” he threw the copy of _The Quibbler_ to her. She caught it and stared down at the cover. Her pale, doughy face turned an ugly, patchy violet.

“When did you do this?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. 

“Last Hogsmeade weekend,” said Harry nonchalantly.

She looked up at him, incandescent with rage, the magazine shaking in her stubby fingers. “There will be no more Hogsmeade trips for you, Mr. Potter,” she whispered. “How you dare... how you could…” She took a deep breath. “I have tried again and again to teach you not to tell lies. The message, apparently, has still not sunk in. Fifty points from Gryffindor and another weekʹs worth of detentions.” She stalked away, clutching _The Quibbler_ to her chest, the eyes of many students following her.

By mid‐morning enormous signs had been put up all over the school, not just on house noticeboards, but in the corridors and classrooms too.

_BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS_

_Any student found in possession of the magazine The Quibbler will be expelled._

_The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty‐seven._

_Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor_

“Aw, sensitive little bitch couldn’t take it,” Kit squealed in delight when they saw it.

No student was going to listen to it, either. Even with Umbridge stalking the school, stopping students at random to turn out their pockets and books for any sight of _The Quibbler_ , her peers were getting defiant, and soon, everyone had read it. Many had learned the same type of concealment spell that Kit had done on the Firewhiskey bottle in the Hog’s Head following one of the first letters she received from her father last term, in order to hide their copies and make them look like textbook extracts or blank sheets of parchment. 

Harry had even told her about how teachers were subtly showing their appreciation for him with small gestures, which made her happy. For once, they had the upper hand.

But it had only fueled her rage, and unfortunately the rage of several of the students as well. Umbridge had very publicly tried to ban Professor Trelawney, making an embarrassing and rather sad spectacle in the courtyard. Dumbledore had vouched for her to stay, but the position of Divination Professor had been granted to one of the centaurs of the Forbidden Forest— Firenze. This only fueled Umbridge’s ire, as she had very blatantly pronounced her hatred of half-breeds, but she couldn’t go against Dumbledore’s order, either. 

Fred and George had thrown a party (actually, several parties) when it came to celebrating Harry’s interview and Umbridge’s continued loss of power, at least, for the moment. Kit had attended one, but with the O.W.L.s drawing nearer, she was finding herself actually trying to study.

The problem was that she preferred studying with Blaise and Draco, but the Slytherins were now starting to dislike her presence there.

“How can you sit there and act so normal?” Theodore Nott had snapped when he accidentally tripped on her bag, which had been tossed carelessly on the floor by Draco when he’d wanted to lay on Kit’s lap.

“I’m sorry about the bag, Theo, really I am,” she had responded awkwardly, having thought at the time that he was just stressed about exams.

“Don’t call me that, we are not friends. I don’t care how much time you spend in here, you will never be liked by Slytherin House. You’re a fucking traitor as far as we care.”

This had made her sit up, frowning as Draco glared at Theo in confusion.

“What is this about, really?” she inquired harshly. 

“The article! You supported stupid Potter going out and naming half of our parents as Death Eaters! Your own bloody parents were mentioned and you don’t care, but the rest of us do! We’re supposed to be studying for exams but everytime I go into the library now, all I hear is people whispering about how Potter told stupid Skeeter that my father is a Death Eater!”

Draco stood up, looking angry. “It isn’t her fault that Potter chose to name drop our fathers, so don’t be a drama queen, Theo.”

The boy sneered back at Kit, pointing his finger right in her face. “You mark my words, Thompson, we’ll get you and Potter. We know you’re up to something.”

He had stalked away, and Kit had let out a very shaky sigh.

“He’s got a point with the last bit,” said Draco cautiously. “Umbridge had a few of us meet her earlier today, and asked us to keep a lookout on what Potter is doing because she suspects something is up. D’you think you and Blaise might finally want to tell me what’s going on? I can try and steer Umbridge in the wrong direction.”

And that day, Kit had pulled Draco to the Ravenclaw Common Room, and they’d stayed in a makeshift pillow fort inside the Common Room, for her to safely explain to him everything about the DA. She felt it was time for him to know, and she trusted him. At the very least, he was offering to help, and they needed that.

“Wow,” he breathed, leaning back. “That sounds really fun, actually. Do you think maybe… one day I can go? To one of the meetings?”

Kit found herself smiling, and pulled him in for a kiss. “Yes, certainly. We’ll plan for it.”

“Perfect. Umbridge is thinking of creating this group with us— wants to call it the Inquisitorial Squad. I can be like… a double agent, you know? That might be cool.”

“That’s an ugly name,” she said, scrunching her nose up. 

“Yes, I agree. Dumbledore’s Army sounds better, even though you said that you prefer to call it the Defense Association.”

“D’you think we’ll get rid of Umbridge anytime soon?”

“I hope we do. I’d like to get in at least one DA meeting before O.W.L.s. I feel confident about them, though, I think I’m on a good path.”

Kit let her head rest over his lap this time. “You really are super bloody intelligent, you know? You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re always consistently getting Os in Potions. You’re really good at Charms and Transfiguration, too. What is it that you really want to be when you grow up, hmm? What career do you want?”

He thought for a moment. “Dunno. If playing professional Quidditch was an option, I’d enjoy that. I wouldn’t mind being a Professor, either. Potions Professor, for when Snape retires. Besides, he wants to teach Defense either way, so there will eventually be a vacancy once Dumbledore stops denying him the position.”

“Ooh, Professor Malfoy,” teased Kit as he brought a hand down to caress her face. “I can see that. I can imagine that. Several of us would probably be good at being Professors.”

“I agree. Let’s see— Potter as Defense Professor, since he’s teaching everyone in the DA. That’s a pretty impressive feat, by the way, I think he’s a bloody saint to have agreed to do that. I wouldn’t have a patient to teach people by age and older, in an environment like that. Er— anyway,” he blushed a bit when he realized he’d sort of complimented Harry, “Hermione can be… well, we’ll leave her for the end ‘cause she’s good at every subject. Blaise can teach Care of Magical Creatures. Weasley— er, Ron— can teach… you know, he’d probably be good at teaching Transfiguration, I reckon. He’s not bad at it, he just doesn’t practice enough. I’d teach Potions, and you’d definitely teach Charms. You’re more advanced in Transfiguration but Ravenclaw and Slytherin have had Charms together for quite awhile now and you always learn things really fast there and get down to a precision that a lot of people can’t. Su can teach Astronomy, I hear she’s good at that. And I suppose Hermione can do Muggle Studies because she’d actually be able to explain things properly.”

“You really thought this through,” said Kit with a soft giggle. “Sounds like coming back to Hogwarts is in the cards for you.”

He looked down at her. “And not for you? Are you really that set on being a Healer?”

“I think I would very much enjoy it. I don’t know if I can see myself making Hogwarts my permanent home. I don’t have enough patience to teach— I barely have enough patience to learn.”

He let out a soft breath. “I can see you being a Healer, definitely. I guess… I don’t really know what I want, yet. But I do want to do something. Not a desk job at the Ministry. I don’t know about foreign relations either. I think for now, at least, once we have our career talks with our Heads of House, I’ll fixate on Potions Professor.”

“Professor Malfoyyy,” cooed Kit playfully. 

They had a good laugh at that one.


	52. Chapter 52

**A while back, Kit thought that she’d never be able to produce a patronus.**

When they had started discussing them in the DA, she wasn’t optimistic about it at all. Long hours passed in the Room of Requirement where she was having a lot of trouble thinking hard enough to even produce a silvery wisp. There were too many negative thoughts that plagued her mind.

But then had come Draco. Ever since she had told him about the DA, she had talked to him about the spells they were practicing. She and Blaise had spent some weekends teaching them to him before. When it came to Patronuses, Blaise was doing very well in terms of making a silvery figure of sorts, but it still had not taken shape. Blaise had been in charge of helping Kit, and Draco had tried his hardest too, but like her, couldn’t do it very well.

“I’m not used to failing so badly at these things,” he muttered. “Usually, I do really well right away…”

“Patronuses are different,” sighed Kit. “That’s what Harry says. He thinks we shouldn’t get discouraged, but a lot of us are struggling badly. And most haven’t been abused like we have. It doesn’t give me a very good outlook when it comes to me producing one.”

It seemed this had motivated Draco. By the time the last DA meeting before Easter arrived, he had helped Kit so much in both practicing and snogging (for the sake of creating some positive memories), that she was creating somewhat of a shape.

“They’re so pretty,” sighed Cho beside Kit, watching her silvery swan-shaped Patronus soar through the room. 

“Theyʹre not supposed to be pretty, theyʹre supposed to protect you,” said Harry patiently. “What we really need is a Boggart or something; thatʹs how I learned, I had to conjure a Patronus while the Boggart was pretending to be a Dementor—”

“But that would be really scary!” said Lavender, who was shooting puffs of silver vapour out of the end of her wand. “And I still— canʹt— do it!” 

“Me neither,” sighed Kit, trying again. Hers was an odd shaped blob. Large, as if it would be a predatory creature, but shapeless.

Hermione’s Patronus soared past her, a shining silver otter. Kit smiled as the little creature swirled around her before returning to Hermione, who was calmly helping Blaise. His Patronus was gaining more shape, and it seemed a few more tries would do it.

“Expecto Patronum!” he yelled, his stance firm. “Expecto Patronum! Expect— Oh, shit, it has a shape!”

Hermione had clapped very politely as the shimmering mass stretched. But her face suddenly turned very pink when an otter identical to hers burst out, and began swimming through the air alongside her own. 

“Ooh, that means they’re soulmates, doesn’t it?” Su whispered, eyes wide as saucers. 

Kit grinned, nodding her head slowly, because as far as she knew, that was the indicator. Hermione and Blaise had both gone very quiet, and were refraining from looking at each other.

The door of the Room of Requirement opened, and closed. The girls, who were near the door, glanced down, seeing none other than Dobby the house-elf, with eight woolly hats atop his head. 

“Hello, Dobby,” said Kit, crouching down to his level. She furrowed her eyebrows, realizing he was shaking.

“Mistress Kit,” said the elf. “Dobby must speak with Harry Potter!”

Su took care of it, darting through the crowd and pulling Harry out. “Hi Dobby,” he said. “What are you— what’s wrong?”

His eyes widened in terror, the room going silent to hear him. “Harry Potter, sir…” squeaked the elf, trembling from head to foot, “Harry Potter, sir... Dobby has come to warn you... but the house‐elves have been warned not to tell…” He sprinted head-first and ran into the wall, bouncing back. Harry grasped him. “What happened, Dobby?” he asked urgently. 

“Harry Potter... she... she...ʺ

But it didn’t matter. The door flew open and everyone flinched, especially Kit, because the person in the doorway was Draco.

“She knows,” he said immediately, staring directly at Harry. “Umbridge knows— get the bloody hell out of here!”

Mass panic. All the students pelted toward the exit at once, and Kit suddenly didn’t see Draco anymore. She was shoved aside, and nearly fell at the feet of Seamus Finnigan, who was here for the first time with Dean Thomas. She could hear the footsteps receding, but she didn’t know if anyone would make it to their dormitories in time…

“Kit!” she could hear Draco’s voice but she couldn’t see him. She wasn’t moving— she was thinking to let everyone else out first. She whirled all the way around, seeing Blaise already dragging Hermione out through the doors. She could see Su somewhere near Terry and Anthony, but she didn’t see Ron. Harry had hung back, and was saying something to Dobby, who vanished right after.

“Harry, come on!” Kit yelled when almost everyone was gone. He ran to her, and they were the last two out the door. They turned down the hall and Kit felt her arm be grabbed by Draco, who’d been pressed against the wall to avoid the stampede.

“This way!” He said, as if implying for Harry to follow. “There’s a broom closet not far from here, we can pretend we were snogging or something, who cares if it comes off as weird if Potter is there—”

But it was all too confusing, and they were already too late. They turned a corner and Draco came to a screeching halt because of something he’d seen on the other end of the corridor. Harry slammed into him and fell, his body hitting the back of Kit’s legs and swiping them out from under her, making her fall on top of him. Draco whirled around, wand out, thinking that someone had knocked them down from behind, and ready to fight to get away. “What the—?”

“It’s them!”

Kit and Harry, struggling to get up from the floor, watched in horror as Umbridge sped from behind Draco. As it turned out, he’d seen her coming and was going to make them turn around. But Umbridge was perceiving the situation very differently.

“You got them!” she said in a shrill, gleeful manner. “Excellent, Draco, excellent, oh, very good— fifty points to Slytherin!”

“Professor, no—” he began, but Umbridge shoved him aside and pointed her wand in Kit’s face. “Stand up, both of you. Now.”

“Professor they weren’t doing anything wrong,” said Draco desperately, lunging forward to grab Kit. Umbridge whirled around to face him. “Be very careful about your next words, Draco, because I will have to let Lucius know if you’ve dared to defend a pair of troublemakers like Katherine Thompson and Harry Potter.”

Draco hesitated, looking thoroughly conflicted. Kit now knew what he was feeling. Fear. His father would hurt him, and the threat still stood for Lucius to hurt Kit in retaliation.

“Draco it’s okay,” she said quietly, getting up and pulling Harry to his feet. “You should go.”

It was very clear that Draco had no intention to go, but Umbridge didn’t care. She seized Kit and Harry’s arms painfully tight and began to walk straight toward Dumbledore’s office.

They were at the stone gargoyle in minutes. “Fizzing Whizzbee,” sang Umbridge in triumph, pulling them straight into a gathering of several people— Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Cornelius Fudge, Kingsley Shacklebolt (Kit vaguely recognized him from somewhere), John Dawlish (she’d heard he was an Auror), and Percy Weasley. 

The portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses on the wall were alert and serious, watching what was happening below them. Umbridge shut the door and released Harry and Kit.

“Well, Potter… Thompson,” began Fudge, looking viciously satisfied. “I expect you know why you are here?”

Harry began to answer, but Kit found it strange that his reply changed mid-word, “Ye— no.” 

That was awkward. She expected he’d have defiantly replied ‘yes.’

“I beg your pardon?” said Fudge. 

“No,” said Harry, firmly, daring to glance at Kit as if he was urging her to do the same. 

“Miss Thompson, do you know why you are here?”

“Um, no,” she said, glancing at Dumbledore, who had a strange look of approval on his face. Had he signaled for Harry to lie? “Umbridge just snatched us up.”

Fudge looked like he was trying to stay calm. “So you are not aware that you have broken any school rules or Ministry Decrees?”

“No,” answered Kit immediately. “We read all of them and I’m sure we haven’t done anything bad.”

“So, itʹs news to you, is it,” said Fudge, his voice now thick with anger, “that an illegal student organisation has been discovered within this school?”

“Yes, it is,” said Harry, hoisting an unconvincing look of innocent surprise on his face.

“I think, Minister,” said Umbridge silkily from beside him, “we might make better progress if I fetch our informant.”

“Yes, yes, do,” said Fudge, nodding, and he glanced maliciously at Dumbledore as Umbridge left the room. “Thereʹs nothing like a good witness, is there, Dumbledore?”

“Nothing at all, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore gravely, inclining his head.

There was a wait of several minutes, in which nobody looked at each other, then Kit heard the door open behind her. Umbridge moved past her into the room, gripping by the shoulder Marietta Edgecombe, who was hiding her face in her hands. Kit felt her chest swell with rage— of course it had been Marietta! She never wanted to invite her in the first place, she knew Marietta was a snitch since ages ago. 

“Donʹt be scared, dear, donʹt be frightened,” said Umbridge softly, patting her on the back, “itʹs quite all right, now. You have done the right thing. The Minister is very pleased with you. Heʹll be telling your mother what a good girl youʹve been.” She looked up at Fudge. “Marietta’s mother, Minister, is Madam Edgecombe from the Department of Magical Transportation, Floo Network office— sheʹs been helping us police the Hogwarts fires, you know.”

“Jolly good, jolly good!” said Fudge heartily. “Like mother, like daughter, eh? Well, come on, now, dear, look up, donʹt be shy, letʹs hear what youʹve got to— galloping gargoyles!ʹ

As Marietta raised her head, Fudge leapt backwards in shock, nearly landing himself in the fire. Marietta gave a wail and pulled the neck of her robes right up to her eyes, but not before everyone had seen that her face was horribly disfigured by a series of close‐set purple pustules that had spread across her nose and cheeks to form the word ʹSNEAKʹ.

 _Holy shit,_ thought Kit. She and Hermione had agreed on some distinctive mark but not complete disfiguration of the person’s face. That didn’t look like it’d be easy to remove.

“Never mind the spots now, dear,” said Umbridge impatiently, “just take your robes away from your mouth and tell the Minister—” But Marietta gave another muffled wail and shook her head frantically.

“Oh, very well, you silly girl, Iʹll tell him,” snapped Umbridge. “Well, Minister, Miss Edgecombe here came to my office shortly after dinner this evening and told me she had something she wanted to tell me. She said that if I proceeded to a secret room on the seventh floor, sometimes known as the Room of Requirement, I would find out something to my advantage. I questioned her a little further and she admitted that there was to be some kind of meeting there. Unfortunately, at that point this hex came into operation and upon catching sight of her face in my mirror the girl became too distressed to tell me any more.”

“Well, now,” said Fudge, “it is very brave of you, my dear, coming to tell Professor Umbridge. You did exactly the right thing. Now, will you tell me what happened at this meeting? What was its purpose? Who was there?”

But Marietta would not speak; she merely shook her head again, her eyes wide and fearful.

“Havenʹt we got a counter‐jinx for this?” Fudge asked Umbridge impatiently, gesturing at Mariettaʹs face. “So she can speak freely?”

“I have not yet managed to find one,” Umbridge admitted grudgingly, and Kit felt proud of Hermione, for a second, but she was displeased that she’d lied about the severity of the jinx. “But it doesnʹt matter if she wonʹt speak, I can take up the story from here. You will remember, Minister, that I sent you a report back in October that Potter and Thompson had met a number of fellow students in the Hogʹs Head in Hogsmeade—”

“And what is your evidence for that?” cut in Professor McGonagall.

“I have testimony from Willy Widdershins, Minerva, who happened to be in the bar at the time. He was heavily bandaged, it is true, but his hearing was quite unimpaired,” said Umbridge smugly, and Kit recalled the bandaged man who had given Su the Firewhiskey. “He heard every word Potter and Thompson said and hastened straight to the school to report to me—” 

“Oh, so thatʹs why he wasnʹt prosecuted for setting up all those regurgitating toilets!” said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows. “What an interesting insight into our justice system!”

“Blatant corruption!” roared the portrait of the corpulent, red‐nosed wizard on the wall behind Dumbledoreʹs desk. “The Ministry did not cut deals with petty criminals in my day, no sir, they did not!”

“Thank you, Fortescue, that will do,” said Dumbledore softly.

“The purpose of Potter and Thompson’s meeting with these students,” continued Professor Umbridge, “was to persuade them to join an illegal society, whose aim was to learn spells and curses the Ministry has decided are inappropriate for school‐age—”

“I think youʹll find youʹre wrong there, Dolores,” said Dumbledore quietly. 

“Oho!” said Fudge, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet again. “Yes, do letʹs hear the latest cock‐and‐bull story designed to pull Potter out of trouble! Go on, then, Dumbledore, go on— Willy Widdershins was lying, was he? Or was it Potter’s identical twin in the Hogʹs Head that day? Or was it a hallucination of Thompson, a girl he’d never seen before? Or is there the usual simple explanation involving a reversal of time, a dead man coming back to life and a couple of invisible Dementors?”

Percy Weasley let out a hearty laugh. “Oh, very good, Minister, very good!”

Dumbledore was smiling gently, as if amused. “Cornelius, I do not deny— and nor, I am sure, do Harry and Kit— that they were in the Hogʹs Head that day, nor that they were trying to recruit students to a Defense Against the Dark Arts group. I am merely pointing out that Dolores is quite wrong to suggest that such a group was, at that time, illegal. If you remember, the Ministry Decree banning all student societies was not put into effect until two days after Kit and Harry's Hogsmeade meeting, so they were not breaking any rules at all in the Hogʹs Head.”

Percy Weasley and Fudge were silent, but Umbridge recovered quickly. “That’s all very fine, Headmaster, but we are now nearly six months on from the introduction of Educational Decree Number Twenty‐four. If the first meeting was not illegal, all those that have happened since most certainly are.”

“Well, they certainly would be, if they had continued after the Decree came into effect. Do you have any evidence that any such meetings continued?”

“Evidence?” repeated Umbridge. “Have you not been listening, Dumbledore? Why do you think Miss Edgecombe is here?”

“Oh, can she tell us about six monthsʹ worth of meetings? I was under the impression that she was merely reporting a meeting tonight.”

“Miss Edgecombe,” said Umbridge at once, “tell us how long these meetings have been going on, dear. You can simply nod or shake your head, Iʹm sure that wonʹt make the spots worse. Have they been happening regularly over the last six months?”

This was it, Marietta would for sure reveal that they’d been at it since October… 

But she shook her head.

“I donʹt think you understood the question, did you, dear?” said Umbridge, shocked. “Iʹm asking whether youʹve been going to these meetings for the past six months? You have, havenʹt you?”

Again, Marietta shook her head.

“What do you mean by shaking your head, dear?” said Umbridge in a testy voice.

“I would have thought her meaning was quite clear,” said Professor McGonagall harshly, “there have been no secret meetings for the past six months. Is that correct, Miss Edgecombe?”

Marietta nodded.

“But there was a meeting tonight!” said Umbridge furiously. “There was a meeting, Miss Edgecombe, you told me about it, in the Room of Requirement! And Potter was the leader, was he not? And Potter and Thompson organized it— _why are you shaking your head, girl_?”

“Well, usually when a person shakes their head,” said McGonagall coldly, “they mean ‘no.’ So unless Miss Edgecombe is using a form of sign‐language as yet unknown to humans—”

Umbridge seized Marietta, pulled her round to face her and began shaking her very hard. A split second later Dumbledore was on his feet, his wand raised; Kingsley started forwards and Umbridge leapt back from Marietta, waving her hands in the air as though they had been burned.

“I cannot allow you to manhandle my students, Dolores,” said Dumbledore and, for the first time, he looked angry. 

“You want to calm yourself, Madam Umbridge,” said Kingsley, in his deep, slow voice. “You donʹt want to get yourself into trouble, now.”

“No,” said Umbridge breathlessly, glancing up at the towering figure of Kingsley. “I mean, yes— youʹre right, Shacklebolt— I— I forgot myself.”

“Dolores,” said Fudge, “the meeting tonight— the one we know definitely happened—”

“Yes,” said Umbridge, pulling herself together, “yes... well, Miss Edgecombe tipped me off and I proceeded at once to the seventh floor, accompanied by certain trustworthy students, so as to catch those in the meeting red‐handed. It appears that they were forewarned of my arrival, however, because when we reached the seventh floor they were running in every direction. It does not matter, however. I have all their names here, Miss Parkinson ran into the Room of Requirement for me to see if they had left anything behind. We needed evidence and the room provided.”

Fucking crap. There it was— the list that Hermione and Kit had sworn they wouldn’t let fall into the wrong hands. Kit should have jinxed it awhile ago to conceal it and vanish it, or something. 

“Excellent,” said Fudge, a smile spreading across his face as he looked over the list, “excellent, Dolores. And... by thunder… See what theyʹve named themselves? ‘Dumbledoreʹs Army.ʹ”

Dumbledore reached out and took the piece of parchment from Fudge. He gazed at the heading and for a moment seemed unable to speak. Then he looked up, smiling. “Well, the game is up,” he said simply. “Would you like a written confession from me, Cornelius— or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?”

McGonagall and Kingsley shared a bewildered look. Even Harry and Kit dared to glance at each other, thoroughly confused. 

“Statement?” said Fudge slowly. “What— I donʹt—?”

“Dumbledoreʹs Army, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore. “Not Potterʹs Army. Not Thompson’s Army. Dumbledoreʹs Army.”

“But— but— you?”

“Thatʹs right,” said Dumbledore pleasantly.

“You organised this?”

“I did.”

“You recruited these students for— for your army?”

“Tonight was supposed to be the first meeting. Merely to see whether they would be interested in joining me. I see now that it was a mistake to invite Miss Edgecombe, of course.”

Marietta nodded. Fudge looked from her to Dumbledore, his chest swelling. “Then you have been plotting against me!”

“Thatʹs right,” said Dumbledore cheerfully.

“NO!” shouted Harry immediately, apparently wanting to defend Dumbledore. Kingsley flashed a look of warning at him and McGonagall widened her eyes threateningly. Kit could care less. She was in enough trouble as it was. “No— Professor Dumbledore—!”

“Be quiet, Harry, or I am afraid you will have to leave my office,” said Dumbledore calmly.

“Yes, shut up, Potter!” barked Fudge. “Well, well, well— I came here tonight expecting to expel Potter and instead—”

“Instead you get to arrest me,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “Itʹs like losing a Knut and finding a Galleon, isnʹt it?”

“Weasley!” cried Fudge, now positively quivering with delight, “Weasley, have you written it all down, everything heʹs said, his confession, have you got it?”

“Yes, sir, I think so, sir!” said Percy eagerly, whose nose was splattered with ink from the speed of his note‐taking.

“The bit about how heʹs been trying to build up an army against the Ministry, how heʹs been working to destabilise me?”

“Yes, sir, Iʹve got it, yes!” said Percy, scanning his notes joyfully.

“Very well, then,” said Fudge, now radiant with glee, “duplicate your notes, Weasley, and send a copy to _The Daily Prophet_ at once. If we send a fast owl we should make the morning edition!” Percy dashed from the room, slamming the door behind him, and Fudge turned back to Dumbledore. “You will now be escorted back to the Ministry, where you will be formally charged, then sent to Azkaban to await trial!”

“Ah,” said Dumbledore gently, “yes. Yes, I thought we might hit that little snag.” 

“Snag?” said Fudge, his voice still vibrating with joy. “I see no snag, Dumbledore!”

“Well,” said Dumbledore apologetically, “Iʹm afraid I do.”

“Oh, really?”

“Well— itʹs just that you seem to be labouring under the delusion that I am going to— what is the phrase? Come quietly. I am afraid I am not going to come quietly at all, Cornelius. I have absolutely no intention of being sent to Azkaban. I could break out, of course— but what a waste of time, and frankly, I can think of a whole host of things I would rather be doing.”

Umbridgeʹs face was growing steadily redder; she looked as though she was being filled with boiling water. Fudge stared at Dumbledore with a very silly expression on his face, and nodded back toward Dawlish, who reached for his wand. 

“Donʹt be silly, Dawlish,” said Dumbledore kindly. “Iʹm sure you are an excellent Auror— I seem to remember that you achieved ʺOutstandingʺ in all your N.E.W.T.s— but if you attempt to—er—bring me in by force, I will have to hurt you.”

“So,” sneered Fudge, “you intend to take on Dawlish, Shacklebolt, Dolores and myself single‐handed, do you, Dumbledore?”

“Merlinʹs beard, no,” said Dumbledore, smiling, “not unless you are foolish enough to force me to.”

“He will not be single‐handed!” said Professor McGonagall loudly, plunging her hand inside her robes.

“Oh yes he will, Minerva!” said Dumbledore sharply. “Hogwarts needs you!”

“Enough of this rubbish!” said Fudge, pulling out his own wand. “Dawlish! Shacklebolt! Take him!”

What happened next was very confusing. A streak of silver light flashed around the room; there was a bang and someone yanked Kit and Harry onto the floor; as a second silver flash went off; several of the portraits yelled, the phoenix near the window screeched and a cloud of dust filled the air. Kit heard Harry cough as a dark figure crashed to the floor in front of her eyes. Someone shrieked, there was a thud, breaking glass, frantic scuffling, a groan, then silence. 

When Kit managed to see clearly through the dust, she realized Professor McGonagall had pulled her, Harry, and Marietta out of harm’s way. 

“Are you all right?” Dumbledore asked. Kit stared up at him in amazement. She’d never had much admiration for the old wizard but that was spectacular, especially when she realized he’d taken out Fudge, Umbridge, Kingsley, and Dawlish. 

“Unfortunately, I had to hex Kingsley too, or it would have looked very suspicious,” said Dumbledore in a low voice. “He was remarkably quick on the uptake, modifying Miss Edgecombeʹs memory like that while everyone was looking the other way— thank him, for me, wonʹt you, Minerva? Now, they will all awake very soon and it will be best if they do not know that we had time to communicate— you must act as though no time has passed, as though they were merely knocked to the ground, they will not remember—”

“Where will you go, Dumbledore?” whispered Professor McGonagall. “Grimmauld Place?”

“Oh no,” said Dumbledore, with a grim smile, “I am not leaving to go into hiding. Fudge will soon wish heʹd never dislodged me from Hogwarts, I promise you.”

“Professor Dumbledore…” Harry began.

“Listen to me, Harry,” he said urgently. “You must study Occlumency as hard as you can, do you understand me? Do everything Professor Snape tells you and practise it particularly every night before sleeping so that you can close your mind to bad dreams— you will understand why soon enough, but you must promise me— remember, close your mind, and you will understand.” He took Harry’s wrist then turned to Kit. “Tell Alastor everything that’s happened. For now, you must pretend you tried to help the Minister subdue me. I do not wish your father to come out of hiding in order to harm you.”

Kit didn’t get any clarification. The phoenix— Fawkes— circled the office and swooped low over him. Dumbledore released Harry, raised his hand and grasped the phoenixʹs long golden tail. There was a flash of fire and the pair of them were gone just as the others began to wake.

“Foolish girl,” snapped McGonagall convincingly, grasping Kit’s hand as if she’d just put her wand away. “What were you thinking, trying to help the Minister take on Dumbledore?”

A very confused Fudge hardly heard, but Umbridge did, and glared at Kit in disbelief. But it was believable, because she looked very much blank-faced.

“I-I’m sorry Professor,” stammered Kit to McGonagall. “I just— I didn’t want my father to— not anymore—”

“Do not involve yourself in such matters just to please a parent,” said McGonagall, turning to Fudge instead, who was now alone with them as Dawlish, Kingsley, and Umbridge spet out to search for Dumbledore. 

“Well, Minerva,” said Fudge nastily, straightening his torn shirtsleeve, “Iʹm afraid this is the end of your friend Dumbledore.”

“You think so, do you?” said McGonagall scornfully.

Fudge seemed not to hear her. “Youʹd better get those three off to bed.”

McGonagall swept them away, and Kit let out a shaky sigh. “My apologies, Thompson,” said the Professor quietly. “I know you were not aware that Dumbledore has been in the know about your conversations with Alastor Moody, or that he had told the other Professors about your home situation."

That wasn’t what Kit was fixated on. She knew Moody would have likely told Dumbledore any important points— even if it meant personal details about her and her friends, especially if it was useful to the Order.

She had never spoken directly to Dumbledore. She thought he was quite aware of the fact that she did not trust him. And yet, he had thought of even a small thing to convince Umbridge that Kit was not actually trying to start more trouble. Somehow, she figured there were things Dumbledore knew about her family that she didn’t know, and for that reason, he had sought to give her a bit of extra protection. What was it that she was still in the dark about? 

She needed to find out.


	53. Chapter 53

**The aftermath was strange for Kit.**

Overnight, two things had occurred. One, Kit had written the lengthiest, most annoyed, and most confusing letter ever to Alastor Moody to relay the events of the night before, beg him to practically exhume more information about her family, and relay how frustrated she was with the fact that she was not allowed to make Umbridge’s head explode. Two, notices had been put up around the school regarding Educational Decree Twenty-eight and how it proclaimed Umbridge as the Headmistress following Dumbledore’s disappearance. 

Yet, that wasn’t the weirdest part. The next day, everyone seemed to know that Dumbledore had overcome two Aurors, the High Inquisitor, The Minister for Magic, and his Junior Assistant in order to escape. The details weren’t entirely accurate but they were pretty close, which was strange granted that only Harry and Kit had witnessed it on the students’ behalf (Marietta didn’t technically count since she was currently in the Hospital Wing and had been Imperioused anyway). 

Draco had borne terrible news to the group via Kit. Umbridge had fully assembled her group of loyal Slytherin pawns and publicly dubbed them as the Inquisitorial Squad. It had become known that they had the power to take points away from other Houses, which proved to immediately be a problem, since many began to abuse their power right away.

“Bloody hell,” said Ron as they walked to the Great Hall for lunch. “We’re lucky you’re keeping Malfoy satisfied so he doesn’t think to dock points off of any of us.”

“Unfortunately the same can’t be said about the other Slytherins,” sighed Kit. 

“She asked me to be a part of it an hour ago,” huffed Blaise angrily as they walked to the Great Hall for dinner. “Told her no, and now I got a night of detention. Dunno who the bloody hell she thinks she is. When my mum finds out, she’ll start a riot. She’s never been a fan of punishing students and she’ll be more than willing to pay a pretty penny to see Umbridge fall flat on her face and be shoved into Azkaban.”

“You should tell her, then,” said Hermione worriedly. “She’s hurting you and probably going to do it to the Weasley twins, since they’ve got some grand idea to torment her. From there, students are going to pile up in the detentions, wanting to defy her.”

Blaise offered her a small smile. “If my mum comes to snarl at Umbridge in person, I’ll make sure to introduce her to you.”

“Another note,” piped up Kit after a brief second of Hermione and Blaise sharing a fond look. “Draco says any important letters— that’s to say any communication with Snuffles or your parents, Ron, as part of the Order, should be delivered with the use of Brutus. He says he’d prefer if you give the letters to me, though, since Brutus doesn’t know you. That way, it’ll seem as though it’s Draco’s correspondence and it will continue to go unsearched.”

“Good thing,” sighed Harry. “We’ll need to keep in contact with—”

“POTTER! THOMPSON!”

Kit and Harry whirled around to see Mr. Filch right in behind them, Mrs. Norris at his heels. “Headmistress Umbridge wants to see you. Follow me.”

Looking dejectedly toward their friends, the pair followed Filch, who seemed to be in an extremely good mood. “Things are changing around here,” he said gleefully. 

“We’ve noticed,” answered Harry coldly. 

“I’ve been telling Dumbledore for years and years that he’s too soft with you all,” said Filch, chuckling nastily. “You filthy little beasts would never have dropped Stink Pellets if youʹd known I had it in my power to whip you raw, would you, now? Nobody would have thought of throwing Fanged Frisbees down the corridors if I couldʹve strung you up by the ankles in my office, would they? But when Educational Decree Number Twenty‐nine comes in, Iʹll be allowed to do them things... and sheʹs asked the Minister to sign an order for the expulsion of Peeves... oh, things are going to be very different around here with her in charge.”

Kit sighed boredly. “Really, Filch, just admit you’re a sadist and join a community or something. You have the option to work anywhere else and yet you don’t. Besides, maybe if you weren’t such a foul-mouthed brown noser, we’d respect you. But even your cat goes out of her way to get us in trouble for the slightest things so I don’t know how you expect anyone to treat you right. You don’t see anyone pulling pranks on McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, or the other staff members, hmm? The hate just goes toward you and Snape, who treat us like trash.”

It seemed Filch was no longer keen on flounting about his soon to come new privileges. When they reached Umbridge’s office, he knocked three times and pushed it open. “The Potter boy and Thompson girl to see you, Ma’am.”

Kit gagged internally when she saw a wooden block with golden letters spelling ‘HEADMISTRESS’ on the desk. She glanced back to where Umbridge had chained three brooms which she knew to belong to Fred, George, and Harry. Her heart leapt with a slight bit of thankfulness— her own broom hadn’t been taken away. 

“Thank you, Argus,” said Umbridge sweetly. 

“Not at all, ma’am, not at all,” said Filch, bowing low (at least, as low as his rheumatism would permit) before exiting. 

Umbridge beckoned for them to sit in two chairs placed before her desk. “Well now, what would you like to drink?”

Kit and Harry shared a look. “What?”

“To drink. Tea? Coffee? Pumpkin juice?” As she named each drink, she gave her short wand a wave, and a cup or glass of it appeared on her desk.

No way in hell had Umbridge just called them in for a bloody tea party. Kit knew better— she was probably going to poison them. 

“I’m good, thanks,” Kit said immediately. 

“I wish you to have a drink with me,” Umbridge prompted. “Choose one.”

“Fine… tea then,” said Harry, shrugging, and looking at Kit out of the corner of his eyes. 

“Same,” mumbled Kit.

Umbridge made quite a show of getting them teacups and adding milk, with her back to them. Kit turned to Harry and mouthed ‘ _poison_ ,’ hoping he’d get the memo to not drink it.

“There,” said Umbridge, handing them their cups. “Drink it before it gets cold, would you? I thought we ought to have a little chat, after the distressing events of last night.”

“Okay,” said Kit blankly, staring at the cup. Umbridge didn’t seem to like that neither she nor Harry had drank. “You’re not drinking up!”

Harry was the first to raise his cup. Kit followed, but did not drink. She kept her lips sealed tightly, slurping a bit for effect and swallowing some saliva, before wincing. “Can you add a bit more milk?” she said nonchalantly, to better pretend she’d actually drank. “Just a teensy bit more. Er— please.”

Umbridge seemed delighted to do so, and Harry gave Kit a look of understanding as if saying, ‘ _let’s keep pretending. It’ll be fun_.’

Her cup was handed back to her and Kit pretended to drink again. “Much better, thanks.”

The woman smiled malevolently at the pair. “Good. Very good.” She leaned forward over the desk. “Where is Albus Dumbledore?”

“No idea,” said Harry promptly. 

“Not a clue,” said Kit in agreement. 

“Drink up, drink up,” she said, still smiling. “Now, you two, let us not play childish games. I know that you know where he has gone. Mr. Potter, you and Dumbledore have been in this together from the beginning. Consider your position….”

“I don’t know where he is,” Harry repeated. “And neither does Kit.”

“The whole point of him jumping ship was to disappear,” said Kit bluntly. “I doubt anyone other than the phoenix knows where he is. I mean, I have no idea where my father even is. Do you, for that matter?”

Umbridge pretended as though the comment hadn’t fazed her. “No idea. But very well, in that case, you will kindly tell me the whereabouts of Sirius Black.”

Kit pretended to drink again, and Harry followed suit. “I haven’t even met him in person,” said Kit, trying to sound very honest. “I don’t know how I’m expected to have any idea where he’s at.”

“I don’t know either,” said Harry. 

“Let me remind you both that it was I who almost caught the criminal Black in the Gryffindor fire in October,” Umbridge said impatiently. “I know perfectly well it was one or two of you that he was meeting with, and if I had had proof, then none of you would be at large today, I promise you. I repeat, Mr. Potter, and Miss Thompson… where is Sirius Black?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said loudly. “No idea. Haven’t got a clue.”

“Neither do I,” insisted Kit.

Umbridge looked between them, as if contemplating who she should force to devour the rest of their tea. “Very well,” she said at last. “I will take your word for it this time, but be warned: the might of the Ministry stands behind me. All channels of communication in and out of this school are being monitored. A Floo Network Regulator is keeping watch on every fire in Hogwarts— except my own, of course. My Inquisitorial Squad is opening and reading all owl post entering and leaving the castle. And Mr. Filch is observing all secret passages in and out of the castle. If I find a shred of evidence—”

A loud boom shook the entire office, making Umbridge clutch her desk for support. “What was—?” The sound of screaming and running could be heard from several floors below. Kit and Harry both took the opportunity to dump their tea in small plants on either side of Umbridge’s desk. 

“Back to lunch you go!” Umbridge cried, raising her wand and dashing out of the office.

“The bitch tried to shove Veritaserum down our throats!” hissed Kit. “Keep studying your Occlumency and you’ll become resistant to it.”

“That’s an incentive,” Harry snorted. “Come on, let’s see what’s happening.”

It was not difficult to find. One floor down, pandemonium reigned. Somebody (and Kit had a very shrewd idea who) had set off what seemed to be an enormous crate of enchanted fireworks.

“So that’s what the twins were scheming about,” mused Kit, glancing up at the ceiling. 

Dragons comprised entirely of green and gold sparks were soaring up and down the corridors, emitting loud fiery blasts and bangs as they went; shocking‐pink Catherine wheels five feet in diameter were whizzing lethally through the air like so many flying saucers; rockets with long tails of brilliant silver stars were ricocheting off the walls; sparklers were writing swear words in midair of their own accord; firecrackers were exploding like mines everywhere, and instead of burning themselves out, fading from sight or fizzling to a halt, these pyrotechnical miracles seemed to be gaining in energy and momentum the longer they watched.

It was more amusing when they caught sight of Filch and Umbridge standing, transfixed in horror, halfway down the stairs. One of the larger Catherine wheels seemed to decide what it needed was more room to maneuver, so it whirled straight toward Umbridge and Filch with a sinister, high-pitched squeal. They both yelled with fright and ducked, and it soared straight out of the window behind them and off across the grounds. Meanwhile, several of the dragons and a large purple bat that was smoking ominously took advantage of the open door at the end of the corridor to escape towards the second floor.

“Hurry, Filch, hurry!” screamed Umbridge. “They’ll be all over the school unless we do something— _Stupefy_!” A jet of red light shot out of the end of her wand and hit one of the rockets. Instead of freezing in midair, it exploded with such force that it blasted a hole in a painting of a soppy‐looking witch in the middle of a meadow; she ran for it just in time, reappearing seconds later squashed into the next painting, where a couple of wizards playing cards stood up hastily to make room for her.

“Don’t Stun them, Filch!” shouted Umbridge angrily, for all the world as though it had been his incantation.

“Right you are, Headmistress!” wheezed Filch, dashing to a nearby cupboard and pulling out a broom, beginning to swat at the fireworks in midair; within seconds the head of the broom was ablaze.

This made Harry let out a laugh. “Oh come on, doesn’t she know he’s a Squib? He’d no sooner swallow the fireworks than stun them… come on, let’s go this way.” They ducked low and ran. Harry led them to a concealed door behind a tapestry a little way down the corridor. They slipped through and found Fred and George hiding just behind it, listening to Umbridge and Filchʹs yells and quaking with suppressed mirth.

“You two are so amazing,” sighed Kit, bringing her hands up to ruffle their hair. “If I didn’t have Draco, I’d marry one of you.”

“We’re honored, Lady Kit,” said Fred, bowing low. “A troublemaker like you— our kids would be perfect _demons_.”

“It really is impressive,” Harry agreed with a grin after Kit curtsied back at Fred. “You’ll put Dr. Filibuster out of business, no problem…”

“Cheers,” George said, wiping tears of laughter from his face. “Oh, I hope she tries Vanishing them next... they multiply by ten every time you try.”

The fireworks continued to burn and to spread all over the school that afternoon. Though they caused plenty of disruption, particularly the firecrackers, the other teachers didnʹt seem to mind them very much.

“It seems we have a new guest in class,” Professor Burbage had said vaguely when her lecture on Muggle engineering basics had been interrupted by a stray firework zooming in through the open door. “Someone, go tell our lovely new Headmistress that we have one here.”

One girl by the door had gone to do the task, and the other students had taken the liberty of chasing it around. Kit had resisted the urge to try to vanish it, just as the twins had said, out of respect for Professor Burbage’s classroom.

In Arithmancy, a similar situation had happened, and Hermione reported to Kit that even McGonagall had acted as though she had no power to get rid of the firework herself. Professor Vector had had a very grand time when she opened the door and a trio burst in. They’d had to hide under the desk because they managed to get a tad destructive, but it was worth it, because Umbridge had let out a shriek of fury when she’d come and seen the fireworks shooting parchment all through the air.

The upshot of it all was that Professor Umbridge spent her first afternoon as Headmistress running all over the school answering the summonses of the other teachers, none of whom seemed able to rid their rooms of the fireworks without her. When the final bell rang, Kit, Harry, and Ron saw, with immense satisfaction, a dishevelled and soot‐blackened Umbridge tottering sweaty‐faced from Professor Flitwickʹs classroom.

“Thank you so much, Professor!” said Professor Flitwick in his squeaky little voice. “I could have got rid of the sparklers myself, of course, but I wasnʹt sure whether or not I had the _authority_.”

Beaming, he closed his classroom door in her snarling face.

Su had gone to the Gryffindor Common Room afterwards to celebrate Fred and George as heroes. Kit, on the other hand, had waited outside of Umbridge’s office for Blaise to complete his detention with Umbridge, and then, they’d gone to meet Draco in the Room of Requirement, which provided them with a nice location for the three to laugh, talk, and drink Butterbeer before curling up in sleeping bags near a warm fire. 

“That was fun,” said Draco happily in the morning when they slipped out to their respective Common Rooms, pretending they hadn’t been MIA the entire night. “We should do that more often.”

“We should,” agreed Blaise. “But next time, someone needs to think of the Room as a seventeen and up location so there can be some Firewhiskey bottles in there.”

“I’m all for it,” said Kit, leaning against Draco and pecking him on the lips before darting down the opposite corridor to Ravenclaw Tower. 

The next day, she finally received a response in the mail from Alastor.

“ _Kit,_

_Your letter was a good comedic relief. I have news for you, and I thankfully had plenty of time to write and tell you what I’ve discovered._

_Incident report from the day your uncle, Douglas Thompson Jr., landed in St. Mungo’s. Supposedly, he collapsed in a tavern and was having a fit, so he was admitted and his illness progressed without explanation. Medical reports indicate your father came in when he became comatose, and tried to ask the Healers to pull the plug, but they did not because Douglas was able to refuse it. What I found fishy was the sudden fit, and I had a Healer that is loyal to the Order look over the charts. We have reason to believe your uncle was poisoned beforehand, and I think I know why._

_As far as we know, your uncle was indirectly helping the Order through his connections with Order members. He was disowned as a Thompson, and with his own funds, was helping in whatever way he could. His late fiancée was a Muggleborn witch who died in the first war, and she was helping Dumbledore. His main link to the Order was Alexander Li, who is your friend Su’s father. Alexander was our connection in St. Mungo’s and other medical facilities and helped get us supplies. Travers, one of the escaped Death Eaters, was tasked with killing Alexander when he was caught helping the McKinnon family. Not long after, your uncle became ill._

_We have reason to believe that your father found out about Douglas’s ties to Alexander and knew he was connected with the Order. I believe, based on some records of Douglas’s missions before his fit, that he started being poisoned around the time you were born. Some subtle way, like Kenneth mind-controlling some of his familiars into feeding him certain drinks. I also have reason to believe that Kenneth visited Douglas at St. Mungo’s before he went comatose. Whatever poison, it was dark, and eating away at him, but it could have definitely been cured. My Healer source who studies a lot of Muggle examination techniques and more biological markers, noticed some changes that suggested Douglas’s body started fighting against itself, which is something no magic can fix. It would explain why his death was slowed down, but inevitable._

_Here’s the big point. I’ve been investigating and there are some traces of journals and experimentation that your paternal grandfather, Douglas Thompson Sr. was doing with Vincent Smith, your maternal grandfather. The types of spells they were creating are concerning, and it is clear that your father has done his share of developing. I think your father cast a spell that rooted its control deep in Douglas’s subconscious, forcing his body to attack itself until it killed him. Thus, when he went comatose, he tried to finish him off by acting as his healthcare proxy. Eventually, he won over, as Douglas still died._

_I am telling you this because I do not think it wise for you to return to Thompson Manor this summer, regardless of whether your mother and sister might be under a trance or not. I am very concerned that your father is helping the Death Eaters hide, and may be teaching them similar spells in an attempt to take over the Ministry and crush the wizarding world from the inside. I will send you more details, but I think you should respond with ideas of your own regarding where you think you might be safe. And do **NOT** _(he seemed to have run over this word with ink several times, as well as underlining it) _try and tell me that you think the Zabini residence or Malfoy Manor are suitable options. They are most certainly not. You will not be safe there. Stay safe and stay out of trouble, for now._

 _Alastor_.” 

Kit didn’t even know what to say. She really didn’t think her father could be any worse of a person, but she kept being proved wrong. A murderous desire began to build up in her core, and without words, set the letter on fire. Moody was right, she could most certainly not return to Thompson Manor.

At this point, she didn’t want to, anyway.


	54. Chapter 54

**As it turned out, there had been no point in Kit telling Harry to keep studying Occlumency.**

“What the hell d’you mean he kicked you out?” she hissed when he told her, on the first day of the Easter holidays. 

“I can’t tell you why, but he did,” said Harry, looking a bit shaken. “Just don’t tell Hermione! I just— I needed to tell someone. I thought you’d understand.”

“Harry, I do, but Umbridge tried to force the truth out of us with Veritaserum the other day! You— you need to be ready for her to try it again, because she knows there’s a lot to worm out of you!”

“I’ll try and practice, I swear it.” But Kit knew he was lying between his teeth. He didn’t mind that mysterious dream, because he was incredibly curious about what lay behind the door in the Department of Mysteries. “Just don’t tell Hermione, please.”

“Fine, I won’t. Say, there is something I wanted to talk to you about, though. D’you think you’d be able to live at Grimmauld Place in the summer? Sirius wanted me to ask you since Christmas, and I haven’t remembered to mention it because of everything that’s been happening. I think it’s a good idea to send back to Moody in a letter.”

Kit beamed. “I hadn’t thought of that. I would definitely like that. Sirius and his two adopted children… good Merlin we’ll be terrible influences when we’re adults thanks to him.”

Harry smirked. “Oh, I’d certainly expect so.” But his expression took on a gloomier tone as they reached the Gryffindor Tower. “Well… time to hopefully get Hermione to believe that Snape let me off on a good note.”

She, of course, hadn’t taken it well. 

“But why havenʹt you got Occlumency lessons any more?” said Hermione, frowning, even after Harry had made up a whole lie about him knowing enough to block out the dreams. 

“Iʹve told you,” Harry muttered. “Snape reckons I can carry on by myself now Iʹve got the basics.”

“So youʹve stopped having funny dreams?” said Hermione skeptically. 

“Pretty much,” said Harry, not looking at her.

“Well, I donʹt think Snape should stop until youʹre absolutely sure you can control them!” said Hermione indignantly. “Harry, I think you should go back to him and ask—”

“No,” said Harry forcefully. “Just drop it, Hermione, okay?”

It was Ron who gave them the necessary distraction they needed to change the conversation. “Bloody hell!” he said very dramatically, looking up as the door opened and Ginny let in Su, who was carrying a platter of muffins. “Su, did you know? We’ve only got six weeks left until exams!”

Su blinked and set the tray down in front of them. “Er, yeah, I did know. Hermione and the Professors have been having a countdown since January.”

Ron still looked bewildered, and Hermione let out an exasperated sign. “Is this really coming as such a shock to you?”

“Well, yeah,” said Ron, “thereʹs been a lot going on.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and handed him his timetable. “If you follow that, you should do fine.”

Ron looked down it glumly, but then brightened. “You’ve given me an evening off every week!”

“That’s for Quidditch practice.”

The smile faded from Ron’s face, and Su handed him a muffin.

“Whatʹs the point?” he said dully. “Weʹve got about as much chance of winning the Quidditch Cup this year as Dadʹs got of becoming Minister for Magic.”

“Don’t be silly, you’re still a very good team,” said Su. “Ravenclaw barely managed to beat Slytherin the other day— they got lucky that Draco got slammed by Montague when he avoided that Bludger and it left Cho open to get the Snitch. We’ve got good Chasers, yeah, but they haven’t had much time to practice— all of them are studying for N.E.W.T.s and they’re barely getting any sleep as it is. I’m optimistic.”

Ron groaned. “Either way, stressed or not, those Chasers have been playing their entire time at Hogwarts and they scored on Oliver Wood plenty of times. Davies alone is a better Chaser than everyone we’ve played against so far. I mean, remember in third year when Davies and Kit practically made the Hufflepuff Keeper cry because they wouldn’t stop gaining possession of the Quaffle and trying to score?”

“Well I’m not playing, so it’s fine,” said Kit. “No offense to Cho, but Ginny’s a far better Seeker, naturally, so there’s a good chance. You need to believe in yourself.” When Ron didn’t answer, she sighed and scooped up Crookshanks, who’d been pawing at Harry’s hand, asking to be pet. Harry was zoned out, though, and was not paying it attention. The cat purred gratefully as Kit started to scratch behind his ears.

“I saw Cho earlier,” said Hermione tentatively to Harry. “She looked really miserable, too... have you two had a row again?”

“Wha— oh, yeah, we have,” said Harry. 

“What about?” asked Kit.

“That sneak friend of hers, Marietta.”

“Ugh, Marietta,” sighed Kit. She narrowed her eyes at Hermione. “Oi, why didn’t you tell me you’d made the jinx so bloody terrible on whoever snitched? I thought we agreed on a smaller, distinctive mark, not a completely disfigured face.”

“Well, it was good that we did it, to teach Marietta a lesson,” said Hermione with a frown. 

“Yeah, well, if I’d had it my way, Marietta would’ve never been allowed to go. We never agreed to invite her either.”

Hermione huffed, ready to retort, but Su swooped in and handed them both muffins, not wanting them to start fighting. “Whatever, Marietta snitched, and her face is fucked up, serves her right,” said Su. “But lesson learned, right, next time we communicate better and choose more carefully who we tell our secrets to. Isn’t that right, Ron?”

“Oh, yeah, certainly,” said Ron angrily. “If it hadn’t been for Marietta…”

He then went into a very furious rant about Marietta Edgecombe, which Su, Kit, and Hermione happily contributed to, ignoring the fact that Harry was not really paying attention. Kit wondered what exactly had happened that left Harry kicked out by Snape…

The Easter holidays came and went, and the exams were drawing nearer. Near the end of the holidays, the fifth years received their scheduled meeting times with their Heads of House for discussing career paths. Draco’s and Blaise’s had happened first, which left both very much pensive on their next two years.

“Well, I’ve got pass everything,” said Draco, staring down at the parchment where he’d taken notes on his meeting. “Need an Outstanding in Potions to get into the N.E.W.T. class— I’ve got that covered. Need an E in Transfiguration, Charms Herbology, and Defense. At least an A in Astronomy, History of Magic, and Care of Magical Creatures.”

“Better for you,” scoffed Blaise. “I’ve got more electives. I told Snape I want to either work with creatures in the field or some advocacy and administrative stuff in the Ministry, kind of what Hermione wants to do. Says I need an E in all the core classes, and he’s pushing me to get an O in Potions so I can continue that. He said I can disregard History but I’m not too bad at that. He thinks I should aim for an E in Care and Runes… fuck. Then an A at least in Arithmancy and Muggle Studies.”

“You’ll be fine,” said Kit. “You’re good at all of those, you just need to study, because you blank out on timed essays.”

“I can’t imagine what yours is going to look like as a Healer…”

As it turned out, hers was also going to be quite a bit of work.

“Please, sit down,” Flitwick beckoned, ignoring the fact that Umbridge was in the room. Kit supposed she wanted the scoop on what she planned to do with her life. “Now, Kit, you’ve conveyed in the past that you are interested in becoming a Healer?”

“Yes,” said Kit. “I really want to try for it.”

“As I’m sure you saw in the distributed pamphlets, you need at least an E in N.E.W.T. level Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor McGonagall reports you at O level in Transfiguration, Professor Snape averages you between an E and an O, on a good day. Professor Sprout has very good things to say in terms of your coursework and says it’s at O standard. Defense Against the Dark Arts, however—”

“Hem, hem.”

Of course she had to give her fucking share. Kit turned back to Umbridge, who had a sickly sweet smile as usual. “I can tell her, Filius,” she said with her girlish voice. “Miss Thompson, you’re doing very poorly in my class, behavior wise. Your essays, of course, I have no idea… I never can seem to read what they say.” She glanced down at the back of Kit’s hand, where her own writing bore the scar of the words Umbridge had forced her to put there. 

Kit felt her face turn red with shame. Usually, she didn’t mind the fact her writing was messy— all her Professors could read through it by now and they knew her work was always at a very good caliber even when she left it until last minute. 

“I’m sure you’ll think to write neater on the O.W.L.s, yes?” said Flitwick kindly, drawing Kit’s attention back to him. “You will have to work very hard to make sure you show your knowledge and ability to develop. I have no doubt you will do well on the practical examinations as well as the theoretical ones. Now, back to classes. Astronomy and History of Magic aren’t required to become a Healer, but you do want to try and pass them.”

“I struggle a lot with History,” said Kit quietly. “I don’t know— I just can’t remember anything. I’ve tried to take notes and sure, I do well on essays because I can look at references, but I can never remember any historical facts to save my life.”

“The important thing is you do your best. You have… let’s see…. Arithmancy, Muggle Studies, Ancient Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures. Definitely want to get at least an E on all, just because it gives good reference to your background, but those N.E.W.T.s are not required. I have no doubts you will succeed in getting O.W.L.s in the five core classes we discussed first. In terms of your schedule next year, those will need to be on it if you want to become a Healer. You may choose to continue any other class, but none are required.”

“Sounds good,” said Kit, squirming in her chair. “Is that all?”

“Yes, that’s all, Kit, good work,” said Flitwick, smiling as she darted away full speed.

She got to History of Magic halfway into the lecture. Thankfully, she’d missed most of the class, and it’d been worth it to wake up earlier for her meeting.

She found Hermione looking very cross, and for the first time ever, not paying attention to Professor Binns. 

“What’s going on?” asked Kit as she dropped down beside her. “What’re you arguing with Harry about?”

“I want to talk to Snuffles,” Harry whispered. “The twins are going to help me so I can use Umbridge’s fire.”

“Brilliant idea,” said Kit. “You better be really fucking careful, though. How can I help?”

Ron held his hands up to Hermione as if to say, ‘ _see, this is how you react_.’ But Hermione just growled. “Don’t encourage them!” she hissed to Kit. “Harry, you might be expelled!”

Neither Ron nor Harry listened to her at all, and Kit simply tuned her out and tried to take at least a few notes.

Later that day before Umbridge’s class, Harry told her about his own career meeting, and how Umbridge had sat in and tried to talk him down, only for McGonagall to defend him.

“Fuck, McGonagall needs to be canonized as a saint already and blessed with immortality at the same time,” breathed Kit. “I swear, she, Flitwick, and Sprout are the only reason a lot of us haven’t gone psychotic. Well, the other Professors are great, too, but they’re the Heads of Houses so they help a lot more…”

“I just hope that nothing goes wrong later,” said Harry. “Would you mind coming with me to keep watch? Hermione got Su on her side and now Ron hasn’t been giving his opinion anymore. Fred and George are already going to do their diversion anyway and I have Sirius’s knife and my Invisibility Cloak ready, as well as the Marauder’s Map.”

“Sure,” she said. “I can slip a note to Draco to help keep her distracted, if you want.”

“Nah, it’s okay, it shouldn’t take that long.” He then stopped, and turned pink. “Actually, Hermione’s got me quite a bit paranoid so yeah, ask him, just for a small extra boost…”

It didn’t matter, because everything had gone well. They’d snuck over after class when the twins had already started what was sure to be a massive distraction that Kit couldn’t wait to see. She’d kept watch on the Marauder’s Map while Harry talked. The voices were muffled but she heard Sirius, and possibly Professor Lupin, though she could have been mistaken.

In one dreadful moment, they’d nearly been caught by Filch, but Kit had yanked Harry out in time and gotten the Cloak over them, hiding the map and the knife in her pocket before they were seen. They’d ran out after Filch, and had shoved the Cloak back into Harry’s bag near the landing under Umbridge’s office. They hurried down to the Entrance Hall, and found the students, teachers, and ghosts gathered in a great ring. Some of the students had Stinksap on them, and Peeves the poltergeist was bobbing overhead, gazing down at Fred and George, who stood in the middle of the floor with the unmistakable look of two people who had just been cornered.

“Aw, shit,” said Kit, clasping her hands together in worry. “They’re done for…”

“So!” said Umbridge triumphantly, approaching the twins and standing on the stairs, angled above them. “So— you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?”

“Pretty amusing, yeah,” said Fred, looking up at her without the slightest sign of fear.

Filch elbowed his way closer to Umbridge, almost crying with happiness.

“ʹIʹve got the form, Headmistress,” he said hoarsely, waving a piece of parchment. “Iʹve got the form and Iʹve got the whips waiting... oh, let me do it now...ʺ

“Very good, Argus,” she said. “You two,” she went on, gazing down at Fred and George, ʹ”re about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school.”

“You know what?” said Fred. “I donʹt think we are.” He turned to his twin. “George, I think weʹve outgrown full‐time education.”

“Yeah, Iʹve been feeling that way myself,” said George lightly.

“Time to test our talents in the real world, dʹyou reckon?” asked Fred.

“Definitely,” said George. And before Umbridge could say a word, they raised their wands and said together: “ _Accio broom_ s!”

Harry and Kit heard a loud crash somewhere in the distance. Harry yanked Kit down just in time before Fred and Georgeʹs broomsticks, one still trailing the heavy chain and iron peg with which Umbridge had fastened them to the wall, were hurtling along the corridor towards their owners, streaking down the stairs and stopping sharply in front of the twins, the chain clattering loudly on the flagged stone floor.

“We wonʹt be seeing you,” Fred told Professor Umbridge, swinging his leg over his broomstick.

“Yeah, donʹt bother to keep in touch,” said George, mounting his own.

Fred looked around at the assembled students, at the silent, watchful crowd.

“If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety‐three, Diagon Alley— Weasleysʹ Wizarding Wheezes,” he said in a loud voice. “Our new premises!”

“Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear theyʹre going to use our products to get rid of this old bat,” added George, pointing at Professor Umbridge.

“STOP THEM!” shrieked Umbridge, but it was too late. As the majority of the Inquisitorial Squad closed in from behind, Fred and George kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air, the iron peg swinging dangerously below. 

Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd. “Give her hell from us, Peeves.”

And Peeves, who Kit had never seen take an order from a student before, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as Fred and George wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out of the open front doors into the glorious sunset.

“Their mum isn’t going to be too happy about that,” Kit whistled as Umbridge let out a shriek of rage below them.

“You remember the Howler too, eh?” said Harry, smirking.

Kit gave him a mischievous grin. “Ronald Weasley—” she began, in her best imitation of Mrs. Weasley.

The two burst into laughter, their presence masked from Umbridge by the great crowd of students who were still cheering and waving goodbye to Fred and George, who at that point, were just specs in the distance.

The next few weeks were pure, blissful madness. Everyone was talking about Fred and George’s flight to freedom. Several students were talking about ‘pulling a Weasley.’ The swamp they’d created still filled the corridor on the fifth floor of the east wing, as Umbridge and Filch had been unsuccessful in removing it. Kit and her friends were quite certain that someone like McGonagall or Flitwick especially could have removed the swamp within seconds, but just as in the case of Fred and Georges Wildfire Whiz‐bangs, they seemed to prefer to watch Umbridge struggle.

Many had taken it upon themselves to compete for the newly vacant positions of Troublemakers-in-Chief. Dungbombs and Stink Pellets were dropped so frequently now that Bubble-Head Charms became a norm. Someone slipped a Niffler into Umbridge’s office. Others were fighting back against any Inquisitorial Squad member who dared to try and reprimand them. It had also become clear just how many Skiving Snackboxes the twins had managed to sell before leaving Hogwarts. Umbridge only had to enter her classroom for the students assembled there to faint, vomit, develop dangerous fevers or else spout blood from both nostrils. Shrieking with rage and frustration, she attempted to trace the mysterious symptoms to their source, but the students told her stubbornly they were suffering from ʹUmbridge ‐itisʹ. After putting four successive classes in detention and failing to discover their secret, she was forced to give up and allow the bleeding, swooning, sweating and vomiting students to leave her classes in droves.

But not even the users of the Snackboxes could compete with that master of chaos, Peeves, who seemed to have taken Fredʹs parting words deeply to heart. Cackling madly, he soared through the school, upending tables, bursting out of blackboards, toppling statues and vases; twice he shut Mrs. Norris inside a suit of armour, from which she was rescued, yowling loudly, by the furious caretaker. Peeves smashed lanterns and snuffed out candles, juggled burning torches over the heads of screaming students, caused neatly stacked piles of parchment to topple into fires or out of windows; flooded the second floor when he pulled off all the taps in the bathrooms, dropped a bag of tarantulas in the middle of the Great Hall during breakfast and, whenever he fancied a break, spent hours at a time floating along after Umbridge and blowing loud raspberries every time she spoke.

None of the staff but Filch seemed to be stirring themselves to help her. Harry swore that he witnessed Professor McGonagall walking right past Peeves, who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier, and heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, ‘ _it unscrews the other way_.’

The exam term was drawing nearer, and so was Quidditch season. Ravenclaw had defeated Hufflepuff, and Slytherin had lost to Hufflepuff (as it turned out, Fred and George had pushed Slytherin Captain Montague headfirst into a Vanishing Cabinet sometime ago, and he was too disoriented to play anymore). Therefore, the last week of May was meant to host the final match: Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor.

The night before the match, Kit and Su had stayed up arranging their notes for History, which both girls had decided to combine in order to optimize some sort of learning.

“Is it bad I want Gryffindor to win?” said Su. “I just reckon Ron might do better tomorrow, now that the twins aren’t here. They could be very judgmental and it was _not_ a good morale booster.”

“Nothing wrong with that. But next year, when you’re on the team, you’ll just be thinking very differently.”

Su beamed, and leaned onto Kit. “How about this,” she said, looking up at the ceiling as she lay her head on Kit’s lap. “If Gryffindor manages to win, I’ll kiss Ron.”

Kit wiggled her eyebrows at her, clearly very pleased. “Ooh, I like that. Very bold.”

They’d just need to see how tomorrow went.


	55. Chapter 55

**Kit wasn’t sure how the hell she was expecting Su to kiss Ron, but this wasn’t it.**

The match had gone absolutely fantastic. At first, it’d been terrible. Roger had scored on him and the entire crowd of Ravenclaws, Slytherins, and Hufflepuffs had let out incredibly loud screams. But that's when everything had turned around. Orion had been speeding down the pitch, ready to feign, but Ron had caught onto it and caught the Quaffle so perfectly that Su had let out a loud shriek and leapt to her feet.

From there, it had been absolutely exhilarating. The intensity was cranked all the way up as Kit watched Roger, Orion, and Norman desperately try to score on Ron, but now, he was saving everything, and their formations were losing strength. Soon, the possession was basically all for the three Gryffindor Chasers. The Gryffindor section had even turned around and used the same song Montague had made, but changed the lyrics in encouragement, which had culminated in Ginny catching the Snitch from right under Cho Chang’s nose.

“THEY FUCKING DID IT!” Su had screamed, leaping up and hugging Kit, nearly making them both tumble down the stands. Kit had watched as below, Cho let out a very obviously frustrated yell, slamming her broom down on the ground. 

“I think I should go comfort them,” said Kit, pulling away from Su. “Roger’s going to be feeling really distraught, he thought he was going to win the Cup…”

“I’ll wait for you,” said Su breathlessly, struggling to calm herself down. “Oh Merlin— I’m going to kiss Ron. I’m going to kiss him, Kit!”

Kit had smirked back at her before going down. She passed Ginny first, and pulled her into a hug. “You are absolutely amazing!” she said, pulling away. That was when she noticed Ginny didn’t look too happy anymore.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. 

“That,” Ginny muttered, nodding at what was behind her. Kit glanced back and saw Michael Corner had gone over to comfort Cho. “Aw, shit,” Kit muttered. “I’m sorry, Ginny.”

The redhead shook her head, putting a smile back on her face. “It’s whatever. Michael is a prat. I’ll just get a good snog at the party to make up for it. See you there!”

She jogged away, and Kit moved forward, seeing Roger had his face in his hands. “Hey,” she said quietly, seeing the anguished look when he glanced up at her.

“Hey, Kit,” he said weakly. “Well, we did our best.”

She pulled him into a hug and he let out a sigh. “Just do your best to beat those Gryffindors next year… Captain Thompson.”

He stepped back and removed his Captain badge, smiling and offering it to her. “I already ran it by Flitwick and he approved. Umbridge’ll be gone for sure, and you can bring Ravenclaw to glory.”

Kit felt her eyes welling up with tears, and took the badge before pulling him back into a hug.

After consoling her team the best she could through conversation (mostly everyone but Cho, who was having a difficult time speaking through her sobs), she headed to Gryffindor Tower, and found a party in full swing. Su was nearby, wearing one of Hermione’s sweaters. 

“Have you kissed him yet?” asked Kit.

“No, not yet, he’s been surrounded by people,” she said. 

“Alright, come on, let’s go.” She yanked Su forward and shoved through the crowd, marching straight up to Ron. “Congratulations!” She said happily. “I knew you could do it.” She hugged him and then stepped back to give Su her space.

Su had moved forward and Kit was certain she’d kiss him on the lips, but she’d chickened out at the last minute and barely scraped a kiss on his jaw, pulling him into a hug instead. Really, it shouldn’t count like a kiss, more of an accidental mouth brush against his mandible.

“What the bloody hell was that?” said Kit, bewildered. “You said you were going to kiss him!”

“I-I freaked out,” Su said sheepishly. “I mean, I want to, but— ugh, I haven’t got as much confidence as you do!”

“Pull him aside or something afterward then, and snog the daylights out of him! Merlin knows it’ll do you both some good!”

But Su had not done so. She had hugged Ron again, and danced with him a bit, but no kiss had taken place, and Kit sighed sadly, having hoped for them to make some progress.

**_**

June arrived and the O.W.L.s were upon them at last. 

Kit spent the majority of her time studying with Su, Terry, and Anthony, who were the only Ravenclaws in her year who still cared to talk to her. Together, they spent hours revising and perfecting Charm and Transfiguration techniques.

Blaise and Draco wanted her there most when they were studying Potions, Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures. Their system of studying was much better with just the three of them, and they were definitely doing well. Draco had even taken the time to study History one on one with Kit, since she was certain she was going to fail.

Hermione and Kit were under no circumstances allowed to study alone together. Either Blaise or Su was present when studying Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, though Su mostly took her time working on Divination and History with Harry and Ron.

They came together to study Defense (minus Draco, since he insisted it was still too awkward to be in such a big group). Kit and Blaise helped him study on the side based on what they were reviewing under Harry’s instruction, though more subtly than the DA.

The exams themselves weren’t as terrible as Kit was expecting them to be (at least not for her). Their first exam had been Charms, with a theory paper in the morning and a practical examination in the afternoon. Collectively, they felt they’d done well, but Hermione was insistent on asking whether they’d included certain details on their exams, which made Su and Kit grimace, wondering if perhaps they’d overdone it.

“No, I think you’re fine,” said Blaise for the thousandth time when Hermione asked whether he’d included a counter-charm for hiccoughs. “I didn’t because the prompt didn’t ask for it, and while it exemplifies your knowledge if you do, Andrea told me it’s better to try and only add extra details if you’ve got the time to spare. They grade on what you include— they don’t take points away for what isn’t there to begin with. So don’t worry.”

Kit was certain that Hermione would have paid a great deal to have received direct advice from Andrea Zabini, whose scores were legendary when it came to both the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s.

On Tuesday, they’d had their Transfiguration examinations, which Kit felt she’d done very very well on. Even Draco was feeling quite proud of himself, despite usually being a pessimist when it came to the aftermath of a major exam, since he always tended to doubt his responses. 

Wednesday had been Herbology. Kit and Blaise had shared a very good laugh afterward, because their examiners had been very much distracted when both were bitten by a Fanged Geranium, meaning their small slip ups were going to go virtually unnoticed.

Thursday was Defense Against the Dark Arts, and everyone felt smug following the looks on Umbridge’s face when she saw how good they’d been. It was a sweet reminder that Harry was a far better Professor than she would ever be.

“My only concern,” said Kit later in the evening while she, Hermione, and Blaise were revising for Ancient Runes, “is that it’ll make Umbridge look like a very good teacher. Sure, everyone knows about the DA and how it was Harry that taught us, but she’s the sitting Professor and it might made stupid Fudge force her onto us even more.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” said Hermione impatiently, not liking that Kit was so much as breathing in her presence. “I need to study these translations and you’re not helping.”

Friday, the three had sat in on their Ancient Runes exams. Kit felt she’d done incredible, considering how much practice she had with her coded letters to Moody. Blaise had not been too optimistic, but he wasn’t worse than Hermione, who was in a terrible mood.

“I mis‐translated ehwaz,” said Hermione furiously when they reunited with Harry, Ron, and Su. “It means partnership, not defense; I mixed it up with eihwaz.”

“Ah well,” said Ron lazily, “thatʹs only one mistake, isnʹt it, youʹll still get—”

“Oh, shut up!” said Hermione angrily. “It could be the one mistake that makes the difference between a pass and a fail. And whatʹs more, someoneʹs put another Niffler in Umbridgeʹs office. I donʹt know how they got it through that new door, but I just walked past there and Umbridge is shrieking her head off— by the sound of it, it tried to take a chunk out of her leg—”

“Good,” said Harry and Ron together.

“It is not good!” said Hermione hotly. “She thinks itʹs Hagrid doing it, remember? And we do not want Hagrid chucked out!”

“Heʹs teaching at the moment; she canʹt blame him,” said Harry, gesturing out of the window.

“Oh, youʹre so naive sometimes, Harry. You really think Umbridge will wait for proof?” said Hermione before sweeping off towards Gryffindor Tower.

“Such a lovely, sweet‐tempered girl,” said Ron, very quietly, making Su fall into a fit of giggles.

“Say, she’s been abnormally worried about Hagrid lately,” said Blaise after a short while. “What’s that about?”

Harry and Ron shared a look and leaned closer. “You won’t believe it,” said Harry. “Hagrid brought back his half-brother who’s a giant. It’s in the Forbidden Forest.”

Su clapped her hands over her mouth. “Is he insane?” she hissed. 

“Apparently,” huffed Ron. “He wanted us to teach it English and whatnot… his name’s Grawp.”

“Has it been here since he came back?” said Blaise. “This— this entire time?”

Harry nodded grimly. “We haven’t done much about it, but I’m just concerned Umbridge will find out…”

Over the weekend, they did their best to forget about Grawp and the problems that’d come if he were discovered. Hermione’s bad mood was persisting, and it seemed only Blaise could get through to her without her wanting to tear his head off. 

On Monday they’d had their Potions examinations, which hadn’t been bad at all, especially not for Draco, whom Kit saw in a very pleasant mood after his practical examination. 

“I think I have an O secured,” he said with a bit of a cocky grin, nudging Kit in the ribs while she tried to review all her notes about creatures.

“I hope I did too,” she sighed. “Otherwise I’ll never be able to become a Healer. I’m sure I did well enough… now, come on, let’s review for Care before I lose my bloody mind…”

Tuesday’s examination had proved rather easy, considering that the group of them were very much well versed in the creatures by that point, and were motivated by Hagrid’s secret to do well and give him a very good reputation when it came to preparing students for their O.W.L.s.

On Wednesday, they’d sat in their Astronomy theory paper in the morning, and had to wait until the evening for the practical examination. Blaise, Kit, and Hermione had taken their Arithmancy exam in the afternoon while the others sat through Divination. A few hours before their night exam, Draco was joining Kit and Blaise in a last minute cramming session. 

“If I fail Astronomy, I’ll just off myself,” said Draco. “My mother’s side of the family has a thing for naming their kids after stars and constellations and what not… I’d be a disgrace if I failed this subject.”

“Professor Sinistra always gets everyone through their exams well ‘cause she teaches so closely to what they expect us to know,” mused Blaise. “Honestly, I think she gets to see a copy of the exams a year early. Remember how she spent all that time discussing the qualities of planets last month and that’s exactly what we were told to write about this morning?”

“Maybe she’s Trelawney’s long lost sister and she’s psychic,” offered Kit.

At first, their exam had started going well. They’d been set up with a telescope and a blank star-chart, and were meant to fill it out. The first half-hour was fine, and Kit felt she was doing rather well for someone not related by blood to the Noble House of Black.

But then, a scene below had drawn their attention away. The castle doors had opened, and figures were moving out on the lawn below. Kit had desperately tried to finish her chart before daring to look back down, but at second glance she’d seen that the figures were being led by none other than Umbridge, and they were heading toward Hagrid’s hut, where his dog Fang’s barking could be heard near the door. 

Many of the students were sneaking peeks down at the lawn. It was impossible to concentrate, especially after a distant roar sounded from the cabin. Twenty minutes to go and Kit was forcing herself to write as fast as possible, to at least have a good amount of work to show the graders. But a loud bang echoed out, and Kit’s gaze shot downward to where Hagrid’s door had been blasted open, and a much larger figure was now coming out and brandishing his fists to the six figures around him, who were trying to Stun him. 

“No!” cried Hermione from somewhere beside Kit.

“My dear!” said one of the examiners in a scandalised voice. “This is an examination!”

But nobody was paying the slightest attention to their star‐charts any more. Jets of red light were still flying about beside Hagridʹs cabin, yet somehow they seemed to be bouncing off him; he was still upright and still and fighting. Cries and yells echoed across the grounds; a man yelled, “Be reasonable, Hagrid!” Hagrid roared back, “Reasonable be damned, yeh wonʹ take me like this, Dawlish!”

Kit could just barely see the tiny outline of Fang, attempting to defend Hagrid, leaping repeatedly at the wizards surrounding him until a Stunning Spell caught him and he fell to the ground. Hagrid gave a howl of fury, lifted the culprit bodily from the ground and threw him; the man flew what looked like ten feet and did not get up again. The castle doors had opened once more, and a single long black shadow was now rippling across the lawn. 

“How dare you!” the figure shouted as she ran. “How dare you!” 

“Itʹs McGonagall!” whispered Hermione.

“Leave him alone! Alone, I say!” said Professor McGonagallʹs voice through the darkness. “On what grounds are you attacking him? He has done nothing, nothing to warrant such—”

Several of the students screamed. The figures around the cabin had shot no fewer than four Stunners at Professor McGonagall. Halfway between cabin and castle the red beams collided with her; for a moment she looked luminous and glowed an eerie red, then she lifted right off her feet, landed hard on her back, and moved no more.

“Galloping gargoyles!” shouted the examiner, who also seemed to have forgotten the exam completely. “Not so much as a warning! Outrageous behaviour!”

“COWARDS!” bellowed Hagrid. “RUDDY COWARDS! HAVE SOME Oʹ THAT— ANʹ THAT—” Hagrid took two massive swipes at his closest attackers; judging by their immediate collapse, they had been knocked cold. Hagrid doubled over, as though he had finally been overcome by a spell. But, on the contrary, next moment Hagrid was standing again with what appeared to be a sack on his back, which turned out to be Fang’s limp body. 

“Get him, get him!” screamed Umbridge, but her remaining helper seemed highly reluctant to go within reach of Hagridʹs fists; indeed, he was backing away so fast he tripped over one of his unconscious colleagues and fell over. Hagrid had turned and begun to run with Fang still hung around his neck. Umbridge sent one last Stunning Spell after him but it missed; and Hagrid, running full‐pelt towards the distant gates, disappeared into the darkness.

There was a long minutes quivering silence as everybody gazed open‐mouthed into the grounds. Then the examiner’s voice said feebly, “Um... five minutes to go, everybody.”

There was no way Kit was going to be able to sleep after that. The next day, she was completely distracted during her Muggle Studies examination, and was panicking soon after it when she realized that their final exam, History of Magic, was upon them.

“I can’t fucking do this,” she said to Draco once they were making their way to the Great Hall. “I can’t remember anything, I’m going to fail it.”

“Kit Kat, don’t think like that,” he said, trying to encourage her. “I tutored you myself, you’re at the very least going to scrape an A. I believe in you.”

“But I’m going to blank out— all the facts are going to get mixed up. I don’t have a photographic memory. A-And even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to— to write neat enough for them to know what I’m saying! I… I should just accept a D and not even sit through the exam, it’s not worth it if I’m just going to fail…”

Draco had grabbed her by the shoulders and made her look at him. “Kit, you’re a bloody Ravenclaw, you’re smarter than a lot of people and you always pull through. Don’t let Umbridge get into your head. You’ve been through worse than this, haven’t you?”

She gulped, and slowly nodded her head. “I-I guess so.”

“I know you’re worried about McGonagall and Hagrid and Fang, but they’re going to be just fine. McGonagall’s been around since our parents’ time here, she’s not going anywhere. You’re going to do well on this exam and either way, when July comes and the results are out, there will be more important things to worry about. Got it?”

Kit let out a shaky sigh and let her head rest on Draco’s chest for just a brief instant. “Okay. Alright.” 

He dared to kiss her on the forehead before beckoning her inside.

And in reality, she thought she had at least scraped by. The examination was nearly over and she was just checking her work to see if she could add anything else, feeling a bit more confident than before, when suddenly, a loud yell echoed through the Great Hall.

The students whipped their heads around and saw that the yell had come from Harry, who’d collapsed out of his desk. One of the examiners bolted toward him, urging the others to look back at their papers. Rather quickly, Harry was led out, and Kit anxiously glanced back down at her paper.

“What happened?” she asked immediately when they were released and she’d run toward Ron and Hermione.

“I don’t know, I didn’t hear,” said Ron. “But something is wrong— we’re going to go check on him.”

They darted away, and Kit regrouped with Blaise, Su, and Draco, who were equally curious (and of course, concerned). “What’s up with Potter?” asked Draco. “Did he have a nightmare?”

“Well, he did look as though he’d dozed off just moments before,” said Su timidly. 

Kit suddenly cursed. “Shit,” she mumbled. “Shit— Su, are you sure you saw him looking asleep?”

“Yes, I am. I was looking around to see if anyone looked done because I didn’t want to be the first one, you know, and his head was nodding down onto his fist— eyes closed. His lips were moving through, and his fingers twitched like he was reaching for something…”

“We need to go see him,” said Kit, her voice trembling. She had a horrible feeling that he’d been having that stupid dream again, and she was worried he’d seen something he shouldn’t have. 

“What’s the matter?” asked Blaise. “What does that mean—?”

“He’s not practicing his Occlumency at all,” said Kit as they raced to follow Hermione and Ron. “Something isn’t right— he’s never had that sort of dream in the day before, I know it.”

“Wait, does this have something to do with why Potter was in Snape’s classroom after hours for several nights?” asked Draco.

“Yes,” said Su. “Hold on— they just went through there. Kit, go ahead, I don’t think we should crowd him.”

Kit darted forward immediately, following just behind where Ron and Hermione had gone into an empty classroom with Harry, who was wide-eyed and trembling.

“Harry!” cried Kit. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“Voldemort’s got Sirius,” he said immediately.

“What?” “How d’you—?” “But—?” Ron, Hermione, and Kit didn’t know how to react.

“I saw it just now!” insisted Harry. “When I fell asleep in the exam!”

“But— but where? How?” said Hermione, whose face was white.

“I dunno how,” said Harry urgently. “But I know exactly where. Thereʹs a room in the Department of Mysteries full of shelves covered in these little glass balls and theyʹre at the end of row ninety‐seven... heʹs trying to use Sirius to get whatever it is he wants from in there... heʹs torturing him... says heʹll end by killing him!”

His legs were shaking, and he stumbled over to a desk, sitting down. “How are we going to get there?” he asked, looking up at the others.

“Excuse me?” said Kit, blinking at him.

“How are we going to get to the Department of Mysteries to rescue Sirius?” demanded Harry, more loudly.

There was a lot that Kit wished she’d have known before they began to answer him. There was a lot more that she wished she could have done, too. It was in that moment that fates were sealed, and Kit would find herself seeing things very differently within a few days’ time. While she would not be able to see the thestrals within the hours after the question was asked, she would certainly be able to see them when they returned to Hogwarts.

Had she known, she never would have gone.


	56. Chapter 56

**The argument that rose from his question was downright terrifying.**

Harry, of course, was stunned when none of them had answered him immediately. 

“Harry,” said Hermione in a rather frightened voice, “er... how... how did Voldemort get into the Ministry of Magic without anybody realising he was there?”

“How do I know?” bellowed Harry. “The question is how weʹre going to get in there!”

“But... Harry, think about this,” said Hermione, taking a step towards him, “itʹs five oʹclock in the afternoon... the Ministry of Magic must be full of workers... how would Voldemort and Sirius have got in without being seen? Harry... theyʹre probably the two most wanted wizards in the world... you think they could get into a building full of Aurors undetected?”

“I dunno, Voldemort used an Invisibility Cloak or something!” Harry shouted. “Anyway, the Department of Mysteries has always been completely empty whenever Iʹve been—”

“But Harry, you haven’t actually been there,” said Kit. “It’s been in dreams, it’s not the same— you don’t know who works there so you haven’t seen their faces, that doesn’t mean it’s always empty—”

“Theyʹre not normal dreams!” Harry shouted angrily. “How dʹyou explain Ronʹs dad then, what was all that about, how come I knew what had happened to him?”

“Heʹs got a point,” said Ron quietly, looking at Hermione.

“That was a one time thing,” said Kit, feeling her hands beginning to shake. “Think about it, Sirius would’ve needed to be dragged out of Grimmauld Place first— how the hell would the Dark Lord do that?”

“Sirius mightʹve cracked and just wanted some fresh air,” said Ron, sounding worried. “Heʹs been desperate to get out of that house for ages—”

“But why,” Hermione persisted, “why on earth would Voldemort want to use Sirius to get the weapon, or whatever the thing is?”

“And additionally,” added Kit, “the Dark Lord has sources everywhere— he’d know that Sirius hasn’t been doing squat for the Order outside of Grimmauld Place— no missions or anything!”

“You know what, Iʹve just thought of something,” said Ron in a hushed voice. “Siriusʹs brother was a Death Eater, wasnʹt he? Maybe he told Sirius the secret of how to get the weapon!”

“Yeah— and thatʹs why Dumbledoreʹs been so keen to keep Sirius locked up all the time!” said Harry.

“Look, Iʹm sorry,” cried Hermione, “but neither of you is making sense,” she glanced fearfully between Ron and Harry, “and weʹve got no proof for any of this, no proof Voldemort and Sirius are even there—”

“Hermione, Harrys seen them!” said Ron, rounding on her.

“Okay,” she said, looking frightened yet determined, “Iʹve just got to say this— this, this isn’t a criticism, Harry! But you do... sort of... I mean— donʹt you think youʹve got a bit of a— a— saving‐people thing!”

He glared at her. “And whatʹs that supposed to mean, a ‘saving‐people thing?’”

“She’s just trying to think rationally through this!” snapped Kit. “And she’s got a point— last year in the Tournament you saved the little Delacour girl when you didn’t need to, which was fine and dandy and all but unnecessary!”

“So what, you both reckon I want to act the hero again?” Harry said coldly.

“No, no, no!” cried Hermione. “That’s not what I meant at all!”

“Well spit out what you’ve got to say, because we’re wasting time here!”

Hermione looked sideways at Kit. “Iʹm trying to say— Voldemort knows you, Harry! He took Ginny down into the Chamber of Secrets to lure you there, itʹs the kind of thing he does, he knows youʹre the— the sort of person whoʹd go to Siriusʹs aid! What if heʹs just trying to get you into the Department of Myst—?”

“Hermione, it doesnʹt matter if heʹs done it to get me there or not— theyʹve taken McGonagall to St. Mungoʹs, there isnʹt anyone from the Order left at Hogwarts who we can tell, and if we donʹt go, Sirius is dead!”

“I can owl Alastor,” said Kit, sprinting to the desk and finding a loose piece of parchment. “Just think, Harry, what if— what if it was just a dream? You’ve been stressed by the exams, your subconscious might have been trying to scare you awake because you fell asleep—”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Harry snarled, snatching the parchment away from her hands. “An owl will take forever to arrive to Moody and by then, Sirius won’t be alive anymore! None of you get it! Iʹm not having nightmares, Iʹm not just dreaming! What dʹyou think all the Occlumency was for, why dʹyou think Dumbledore wanted me prevented from seeing these things? Because theyʹre REAL— Sirius is trapped, Iʹve seen him. Voldemortʹs got him, and no one else knows, and that means weʹre the only ones who can save him, and if you donʹt want to do it, fine, but Iʹm going, understand?”

Kit stepped back, feeling a bit afraid from how much Harry’s temper was rising. “I know that you don’t want to see Sirius hurt, and neither do we, but you haven’t exactly been working very hard on the Occlumency thing, have you? You got kicked out and didn’t even bother to practice—”

“I DIDN’T TELL YOU SO THAT YOU’D USE IT AS BLACKMAIL AGAINST ME, KIT!” spat Harry.

That was it. She stomped her foot on the ground and stepped right up to sneer in his face. “WELL I HAVE TO USE IT LIKE THAT CONSIDERING HOW FUCKING CHILDISH YOU’RE ACTING!”

“I’M NOT GOING TO ACT LIKE I HAVEN’T JUST SEEN SIRIUS—”

“THAT’S WHY WE’RE TRYING TO MAKE YOU CALM DOWN BEFORE YOU IMPULSIVELY GO THROUGH WITH—”

“DON’T LECTURE ME ON IMPULSIVITY, KIT—”

“SIRIUS WANTED YOU TO CLOSE YOUR MIND AND YOU DIDN’T TRY HARD ENOUGH—”

“WELL, I EXPECT HE’D SAY SOMETHING DIFFERENT IF HE KNEW WHAT I’D JUST—”

The classroom door had opened seconds before, and suddenly, Blaise and Draco had yanked Kit back before she punched Harry. Su and Ron leapt forward to shove Harry away, and Ginny and Luna, who had somehow materialized in the doorway, pushed Hermione to safety before Kit and Harry got a chance to start what was sure to be a very violent brawl. 

“What the bloody hell are you two yelling about?” demanded Ginny. 

“Never you mind,” said Harry roughly while Blaise forced Kit’s hands down to her sides so she couldn’t get out of their grip. 

“Thereʹs no need to take that tone with me,” Ginny said coolly, “I was only wondering whether I could help.”

“Well, you canʹt,” said Harry shortly.

“Youʹre being rather rude, you know,” said Luna serenely.

Harry swore loudly and turned away. Albeit still very angry, Kit managed to keep her voice level as she gave the others a very brief run through of what’d happened.

“I have an idea,” said Hermione with unnatural calmness. “All of you can help.” Her eyes drifted toward Draco, who was still forcibly holding Kit down as she tried to once again get away to punch harry. 

“Please, let’s try and check if Sirius is home before we go charging off to London,” suggested Hermione. “If he’s not there, then we won’t try and stop you from going, Harry. We’ll do whatever it takes to save him.”

“Sirius is being tortured NOW!” shouted Harry. “We havenʹt got time to waste.”

“But if this is a trick of Voldemortʹs, Harry, weʹve got to check, weʹve got to.”

“How?” Harry demanded. “Howʹre we going to check?”

“Umbridge’s fire,” blurted Draco, who turned very pink when everyone turned to look at him. “We— we can distract her and you can check if he’s there. But let’s solidify a— a plan or something first.”

“I have to write to Alastor,” said Kit aggressively, ceasing to struggle against Draco’s grip. “I have to, and I need a way to get the letter there as fast as possible.”

“Okay, then, you go write it and send Brutus, he’s the fastest owl and one of the only ones not being monitored,” the blond said in a more level voice. He released her and Kit shook her arms to regain blood flow. “The rest of us will formulate a plan, okay? Just go, you need a headstart.”

Kit bolted away immediately.

It seemed things were going to go well, at first. She’d ran so fast to her legs positively ached when she reached the Owlery. She threw off her bag and at lightning speed, wrote what was probably the most ominous letter she’d ever sent to Alastor Moody. She wasted no detail, but kept it rather brief. Brutus was sent off, and she sprinted back to the classroom they’d been in, finding it empty. The plan was already underway.

She tried to think. There had to be some other way she could send another message— perhaps a quicker manner in case Brutus didn’t make it fast enough. There was something Moody had mentioned in his letters— something…. something.

Her patronus. Still without form, but when she’d sent a rant to him about how she couldn’t make it take shape, he’d mentioned that eventually, when she got it, he could teach her how the Order used it to send messages. 

It was an absolutely desperate attempt and she doubted it’d work out, but it was the fastest way she could think of the message being delivered. She shut the door to the classroom and gulped as she extracted her wand. Her hand was shaking, and she feared that it was going to go very wrong, but she had to try.

“ _Expecto Patronum_!” she cried, trying to fixate on all the snogs she and Draco had shared. “ _Expecto Patronum_!” The other day, when Roger gave her the Captain badge. “ _Expecto Patronum_!” Getting to see Andrea get married soon. “ _Expecto Patronum_!”

But it wasn’t working. There was a silver mist, but it was still a large blob that she doubted could carry a message. What other happy memories did she even have? She ran through her head. Draco being kind. Blaise and Hermione getting closer. Su almost kissing Ron. Finishing exams and feeling optimistic about them. Getting to maybe live with Sirius…

It gave her a painful throb in her temples as she tried to mesh all the memories together, trying to focus on the small bits of good in her life, the thoughts of the future. “Please— dear Merlin— please— I’ll do anything,” she said weakly, trying to fixate on anything that might help. “I’ll do charity work, I’ll stop talking back, I’ll become a religious person— I don’t fucking know— just please… _Expecto Patronum_!”

She’d almost fallen to her knees, and she thought that it’d taken too much energy out of her because of her failures. But when she glanced up, she saw that her knees had buckled because her strength had gone into forming what she could clearly see now was a bear, with a tender face and the softest looking ears.

“Oh,” she said quietly, feeling a smile creeping onto her face. “Oh, wow— okay— let’s try and get you to take a message now. Er— to Alastor Moody.” She closed her eyes and concentrated, keeping her wand level as the bear stared back at her, cocking its head in confusion. “Harry’s had a dream. Snuffles may be in trouble. Department of Mysteries.” 

She looked back up at the bear, whose mouth was moving. She had to hope that’d worked. “Okay, good… now, let’s get you to send that.” She waved her wand, causing one of the windows of the classroom to open. “Please, go and tell him that.”

Her heart had swelled when she’d watched the bear turn around. It started to move, and it’d just been about to step out the window when the door behind her opened and a spell was fired, making the bear burst into silver sparkles of dust that fell to the floor.

Kit whirled around just in time to be knocked down. She gazed up in horror as Theodore Nott stood over her, his wand pointed in her face. She raised hers, but he kicked it right out of her hand, catching it, before yanking her up.

“Look what we have here,” he said with a wicked grin. “Umbridge’ll be very pleased with me when I tell her what you were trying to do….”

They had failed. Kit was dragged to the Headmistress’s office and found that Umbridge had not fallen for whatever distraction they’d thought up. The Inquisitorial Squad had rounded up Ron, Ginny, Luna, Su, and Blaise, and to her surprise— Neville. Hermione and Harry seemed to have already been in the office, and feeling her heart skip a beat, Kit realized Draco wasn’t there at all. From the looks of it, he hadn’t been caught doing his part, whatever that had been.

“Got Thompson, Professor,” announced Nott, shoving Kit inside and closing the door behind him. Umbridge looked positively gleeful. The Inquisitorial Squad had taken away all their wands by then, and placed them on Umbridge’s desk. 

“Well, Mr. Potter, I’ve managed to snatch the last of your little allies,” said Umbridge triumphantly. “You stationed those buffoons—” she nodded to Ron and Blaise, “to tell me the poltergeist was wreaking havoc in the Transfiguration department when I knew perfectly well that he was busy smearing ink on the eyepieces of all the school telescopes— Mr Filch having just informed me so. And you sent those three,” she motioned to Ginny, Luna, and Su, “to be your lookouts to keep anyone from coming near my office. Theodore, what is it that you caught Katherine doing?”

“Looked like she was trying to send a Patronus somewhere,” said Nott gruffly, holding Kit’s arms behind her back at a painful angle. “And just before, I saw her leaving the Owlery.”

Umbridge turned back to Harry. “Clearly, the lot of you are very eager to communicate with someone. Was it Albus Dumbledore? Or the half‐breed, Hagrid? I doubt it was Minerva McGonagall, I hear she is still too ill to talk to anyone.”

A few members of the Inquisitorial Squad laughed maliciously. “It’s none of your business who I talk to,” Harry snarled.

“Very well,” said Umbridge. “Bulstrode— go fetch Professor Snape.”

Millicent, who’d been holding Hermione, darted out, and Hermione was left to be restrained by Goyle. Kit glanced at Neville, who was being held in a chokehold by Crabbe. She supposed Neville had wanted to help when he’d seen the others. Ginny and Su were being held with their arms restrained by two sixth year girls that Kit did not recognize. Pansy Parkinson had Luna in a tough hold, but Luna was gazing vaguely out the window as though bored by the proceedings. Warrington was holding Ron against the carpet, his lip bleeding, and one of the seventh year boys had Blaise’s face pressed into the wall. 

Snape arrived not long after. “You wanted to see me, Headmistress?” he said in a dull tone, looking around indifferently at the restrained students. 

“Ah, Professor Snape,ʹ”said Umbridge, smiling widely and standing up again. “Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quick as you can, please.”

“You took my last bottle to interrogate Potter and Thompson,” he said coolly. “Surely you did not use it all? I told you that three drops would be sufficient.”

Umbridge flushed. “You can make some more, can’t you?”

“Certainly,” said Snape, his lip curling. “It takes a full moon‐cycle to mature, so I should have it ready for you in around a month.”

“A month?” squawked Umbridge, swelling toadishly. “A month? But I need it this evening, Snape! I have just found Potter using my fire to communicate with a person or persons unknown!”

“Really?” said Snape, showing his first, faint sign of interest as he looked round at Harry. “Well, it doesnʹt surprise me. Potter has never shown much inclination to follow school rules.”

“I wish to interrogate him!” repeated Umbridge angrily. “I wish you to provide me with a potion that will force him to tell me the truth!”

“I have already told you,” said Snape smoothly, “that I have no further stocks of Veritaserum. Unless you wish to poison Potter— and I assure you I would have the greatest sympathy with you if you did— I cannot help you. The only trouble is that most venoms act too fast to give the victim much time for truth‐telling.”

Umbridge’s face turned scarlet in fury. “You are on probation!” she shrieked. “You are being deliberately unhelpful! I expected better, Lucius Malfoy always speaks most highly of you! Now get out of my office!”

Snape bowed and turned to leave, but Harry seemed to have figured out a way to pass along the imminent message. “He’s got Padfoot!” he shouted. “He’s got Padfoot at the place where it’s hidden!”

“Padfoot?” cried Professor Umbridge, looking eagerly from Harry to Snape. “What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden? What does he mean, Snape?”

Snape looked round at Harry. His face was inscrutable. “I have no idea. Potter, when I want nonsense shouted at me I shall give you a Babbling Beverage. And Crabbe, loosen your hold a little. If Longbottom suffocates it will mean a lot of tedious paperwork and I am afraid I shall have to mention it on your reference if ever you apply for a job.” He closed the door loudly behind him.

“Very well,” said Umbridge savagely, pulling out her wand. “I am left with no alternative... this is more than a matter of school discipline... this is an issue of Ministry security... yes... yes…” she paused for a second to think. “Yes… you are forcing me, Potter, I do not want to… but some circumstances justify the use... I am sure the Minister will understand that I had no choice…. The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue.”

“NO!” screamed Kit immediately. “No— Don’t you dare! It’s illegal!”

Umbridge cast her a maddening look. “And yet, your father is on my side, isn’t he? He still hasn’t been caught for using it on you. As we always say… what Cornelius doesn’t know, won’t hurt him. After all, it was your father who helped me hide from Fudge that I sent those Dementors after Potter last summer.” 

“It was you,” gasped Harry. “You sent the Dementors after me?”

“Somebody had to act,” breathed Umbridge, as her wand came to rest pointing directly at Harry's forehead. “They were all bleating about silencing you somehow— discrediting you— but I was the one who actually did something about it... only you wriggled out of that one, didnʹt you, Potter? Not today though, not now—” she drew a deep breath. “Cruc—”

“NO!” shouted Hermione. “NO! No— Harry— we’ll have to tell her!”

“No way!” yelled Harry, though his eyes drifted to Kit. They were full of fear— he didn’t want to feel the same pain she had.

“We have to, Harry, she’ll force it out of you anyway, what’s the point?” Hermione gasped.

“Well, well, well!” said Umbridge. “Little Miss Question‐all is going to give us some answers! Come on then, girl, come on!”

Kit would later marvel at how quickly Hermione had come up with an alternative to the truth. “Well,” she gulped, “well, he was trying to speak to Professor Dumbledore.”

“Dumbledore?” said Umbridge eagerly. “You know where Dumbledore is, then?”

“Well... no!” sobbed Hermione. “Weʹve tried the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley and the Three Broomsticks and even the Hogʹs Head—”

“Idiot girl— Dumbledore wonʹt be sitting in a pub when the whole Ministryʹs looking for him!” shouted Umbridge.

Kit decided this was her turn to help. “We— we know that,” she blurted out. “But we just assumed he might be disguised or we might find someone who was close to him— we just— we tried everything, and that’s why I went to try and send a Patronus and an owl— I just— I thought maybe he’d recognize my Patronus and know that we needed to tell him something!”

“Well, what is it you wanted to tell him?” Umbridge snapped, though she seemed much more excited. 

“We... we wanted to tell him itʹs r-ready!” choked Hermione.

“Whatʹs ready?” demanded Umbridge, grabbing Hermioneʹs shoulders and shaking her slightly. “Whatʹs ready, girl?”

“The... the weapon,” said Hermione.

“Weapon? Weapon?” said Umbridge, and her eyes seemed to pop with excitement. “You have been developing some method of resistance? A weapon you could use against the Ministry? On Professor Dumbledoreʹs orders, of course?”

“Y-Yes,” gasped Hermione dramatically, “but he had to leave before it was finished and n-now weʹve finished it for him, and we c-can’t find him to— to tell him!”

“What kind of weapon is it?” said Umbridge harshly.

“We donʹt r-really understand it,” said Hermione, sniffing loudly. “We j-just did what P‐Professor Dumbledore told us t-to do.”

Umbridge straightened up, looking exultant. “Lead me to the weapon.”

“Iʹm not showing... them,” said Hermione, nodding toward the Inquisitorial Squad. 

“It is not for you to set conditions!”

“Fine! Fine... let them see it, I hope they use it on you! In fact, I wish youʹd invite loads and loads of people to come and see! That would serve you right— oh, Iʹd love it if the w-whole school knew where it was, and how to use it, and then if you annoy any of them theyʹll be able to sort you out!”

These words had a powerful impact on Umbridge. “All right, dear... letʹs make it just you and me... and weʹll take Potter, too, shall we? Get up, now. The rest of you— keep them here.”

As they left, Kit wondered what the hell Hermione was planning to show her. A dreadful four minutes passed when no one spoke. Then, the door opened, and there stood Draco.

“Let them go,” he said immediately, looking around at the Inquisitorial Squad members. “There doesn’t have to be any trouble.”

“Like hell we’re going to let them go,” snapped Nott. “We know you’re nice and friendly with them now, Malfoy. We’re not doing anything you say.”

“Did I stutter, Nott?” snapped Draco. “I said to let them go. And I suggest you listen to me, because I know things about all of you that you’ve gotten away with by being part of Umbridge’s little squad. You won’t be out of trouble when that old bat leaves this place, I assure you.”

The two sixth grade girls holding Ginny and Su hesitated, before letting go and walking out. They were followed by Crabbe and Goyle, who had never once before gone against Draco’s wishes. Kit stared in disbelief as Warrington huffed and released Ron, the seventh year boy let go of Blaise, and finally, in amazement, as Pansy stepped away from Luna and crossed her arms, looking at Theo as if urging him to do the same.

“Are you insane, Pansy?” he growled. “I’m not going to disobey the Headmistress!”

“Theo, there’s no point to holding them here,” she growled. “There are better things we could be doing with our time. Let them get in trouble, who cares! I’d much rather be resting after those terrible exams.”

“Besides,” added Draco, stepping forward menacingly as the others launched to retrieve their wands. “I have no problem hexing you if you don’t let go of Kit right now. So either release her and walk away, and no one need get hurt, or I’ll make sure your face is permanently altered.”

Kit had never really thought about how much power Draco held over his peers. They didn’t want to be on the wrong side of his wand, that was for sure, and no one was eager to oppose him at all. Frustrated, Theo released her and yanked Pansy out of the office.

“I don’t know much of what the hell you’re thinking of doing,” said Draco quietly when the group had regained their composure, “but be careful... I guess. I-I won’t try and join you— it’s unwise. But I saw Potter and Hermione leading Umbridge out into the forest. So… that’s a clue.”

“Thanks, Draco,” said Blaise, offering him a small grin. Kit moved forward and hugged him as Ginny and Ron led the way out onto the grounds, followed urgently by Su, Neville, and Luna. 

“Thank you,” Kit whispered before kissing Draco’s lips gently. “You are amazing.”

“Just be careful,” he murmured. “Come back to me in one piece, okay?”

How he wished he’d gone with her instead.


	57. Chapter 57

**Though Kit still had a very bad feeling about all of this, it wasn’t enough to dissuade the others.**

“So, where was Draco this whole time?” inquired Kit. “What was his task?”

“He was going to go set off the mother of all firework displays in the courtyard to keep Umbridge extra busy in case we didn’t locate Sirius right away,” said Ron as they sped down to the grounds. “We got lucky— it kept him separate so he didn’t get caught. Blimey, I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that Malfoy _helped_ us.”

Kit beamed proudly at this. 

It didn’t take them long to reach the edge of the forest. They could hear something going on inside, but were unsure what exactly was taking place. But soon, they heard voices heading their way.

“... by the time we’ve done that, Sirius’ll probably be dead!” came Harry’s voice. 

“Well, we canʹt do anything without wands,” said Hermione as they came into the clearing where the others could see them. “Anyway, Harry, how exactly were you planning to get all the way to London?”

“Yeah, we were just wondering that,” said Ron loudly, beckoning the group to follow behind him and get closer to Harry and Hermione. 

“How did you get away?” asked Hermione, gaping at them.

“Draco pulled a favor from the others,” Kit said proudly. “What’d you do with Umbridge?”

“She got carried away by a herd of centaurs,” said Harry.

“And they left you behind?” gasped Ginny.

“No, they got chased off by Grawp.”

“Who’s Grawp?” asked Luna. 

“Hagridʹs little brother,” said Ron promptly. “Anyway, never mind that now. Harry, what did you find out in the fire? Has You‐Know‐Who got Sirius or—”

“Yes,” said Harry, “and Iʹm sure Sirius is still alive, but I canʹt see how weʹre going to get there to help him.” They all fell silent, looking rather scared; the problem facing them seemed insurmountable.

“Well, weʹll have to fly, wonʹt we?” said Luna, as if it were obvious.

“Okay,” said Harry irritably, rounding on her. “First of all, ‘we’ arenʹt doing anything if youʹre including yourself in that, and second of all, Ron and Kit are the only ones with broomsticks that aren’t being guarded by a security troll—” 

“Iʹve got a broom!” said Ginny.

“Yeah, but youʹre not coming,” said Ron angrily.

“Excuse me, but I care what happens to Sirius as much as you do!” said Ginny, her jaw set so that her resemblance to Fred and George was suddenly striking.

“Youʹre too—” began Harry, but Ginny interrupted him. “ʹIʹm three years older than you were when you fought You‐Know‐Who over the Philosopherʹs Stone!”

“We were all in the DA together,” said Neville quietly. “It was all supposed to be about fighting You‐Know‐Who, wasnʹt it? And this is the first chance weʹve had to do something real— or was that all just a game or something?”

“No— of course it wasnʹt—” said Harry impatiently.

“It’s settled then,” said Blaise loudly. “We’re all participating. End of story. We’re all in the DA, we all helped to get you to Umbridge’s fireplace in the first place. We’ve got a variety of ages and strengths here, so it’s actually a pretty good group.”

“Well, it doesnʹt matter, anyway,” said Harry through gritted teeth, “because we still donʹt know how to get there—”

“I thought weʹd settled that,” said Luna maddeningly. “Weʹre flying!”

Kit sighed loudly to stop the others from talking. “Okay— we are going, so don’t start that argument again, but let’s at least hear Luna out. What did you have in mind?”

Luna pointed toward two trees, where Kit couldn’t see anything. “The thestrals. They can fly, and Hagrid says theyʹre very good at finding places their riders are looking for.”

Harry whirled around to where she was pointing, and definitely looked pleased. “Yes!”

“How many are there?” asked Kit.

“Just two,” said Luna calmly. She looked around to count. “Let’s see, there are… eight of us.”

Harry was about to retort, but Blaise held his hand up to silence him. “Don’t you dare,” he said in a hard voice. “You’re the one going on about how You-Know-Who has your godfather. Don’t you think it’s a good idea for more than three people to go? No offense, but you’re no match for that crazy bloke with such limited expertise.”

“But—”

“No,” said Blaise, glaring at him, and making Hermione gaze up admirably at him. “I said it before and I’ll say it again. This is a pretty good group. We were all rather good at the jinxes, hexes, and other spells you taught us. But if you fancy fighting that snake-faced bastard alone, then I’ll happily leave and let you die on your own.”

“We’re all going,” said Hermione timidly, glancing up as Harry groaned. 

“Fine, it’s your choice, but unless we can find more Thestrals, then we’re not going to be able to—”

“Oh, more will come,” Ginny said confidently. “You and Hermione are covered in blood, and we know Hagrid lures Thestrals with raw meat. Thatʹs probably why these two turned up in the first place.”

As it turned out, she was perfectly right. Luna seemed quite happy to soon announce that six more Thestrals had come. It hadn’t been very easy for them to get on, but Luna, Harry, and Neville had helped them all, which proved to be very awkward.

“Holy crap,” said Kit, shakily holding onto thin air. “I can’t see anything but I can feel them…”

“You’d better hope they stay invisible,” said Harry before leaning down to speak to his Thestral. “Ministry of Magic, visitors’ entrance, London. Er… if you know… where to go…”

When they took off, Kit let out a scream and shut her eyes. It was the same exhilarating feeling of riding a broom, but made unbelievably worse by the fact that if she looked down, she’d see only the open air beneath her. Trying not to think of it, she held on tight, and remained there for what felt like hours as they flew out of Hogwarts, soaring over Muggle towns and over to the Ministry of Magic.

It was dark when they landed, and Kit nearly threw up. Ron had fallen off his Thestral, but Kit was gripping so tightly that she’d needed to unclench her hands before she stood any chance of getting off.

Harry had urged them over to a battered telephone box near where they’d hit ground again. The eight of them squashed themselves inside, and Ron was tasked with dialing ‘six two four four two’ on the receiver 

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business,” came a voice.

“Harry Potter, Ron Weasley Hermione Granger,” Harry said very quickly, “Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Blaise Zabini, Kit Thompson... weʹre here to save someone, unless your Ministry can do it first!”

“Thank you,” said the cool female voice. “Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes.”

Eight badges slid out of the metal chute where returned coins normally appeared. Hermione scooped them up and handed them out. Kit saw hers read ‘Kit Thompson, Rescue Mission.’

“Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wands for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.”

“Fine!” Harry said loudly. “Now can we move?”

The floor of the telephone box shuddered and the pavement rose up past its glass windows; the scavenging Thestrals were sliding out of sight; blackness closed over their heads and with a dull grinding noise they sank down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic. Not long after, they were in a larger room— the Atrium, where Kit hadn’t set foot since she was very young. 

“The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening,” said the womanʹs voice.

The door of the telephone box burst open and they toppled out. The only sound in the Atrium was the steady rush of water from the golden fountain nearby, where jets from the wands of the witch and wizard, the point of the centaurʹs arrow, the tip of the goblinʹs hat and the house‐elfʹs ears continued to gush into the surrounding pool.

Harry led the way, and the entire time, Kit’s heart was hammering hard in her chest. They ended up in a large, circular room. Everything in it was black including the floor and ceiling; identical, unmarked, handleless black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls, interspersed with branches of candles whose flames burned blue; their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shining marble floor made it look as though there was dark water underfoot.

“Someone shut the door,” Harry muttered from where he was in the lead.

Neville did as told, but it proved to mean instant regret. It became so dark that Kit let out an involuntary whimper. The only meager bits of light came from shivering blue flames on the walls. They began to move forward, gazing around at the dozen doors all around them. But suddenly, there was a loud rumbling noise, and the candles began to move sideways. The circular wall was rotating. Kit lunged back and grasped the handle of the door they’d come from, thinking to hold onto it, but it shot out of her hands as the wall began to spin very fast, leaving her to almost fall on the floor. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the rumbling stopped and everything became stationary once again.

“What was that about?” whispered Ron fearfully.

“I think it was to stop us knowing which door we came in through,” said Ginny in a hushed voice.

“Howʹre we going to get back out?” said Neville uncomfortably.

“Well, that doesnʹt matter now,” said Harry forcefully, “we wonʹt need to get out till weʹve found Sinus—”

“Donʹt go calling for him, though!” Hermione said urgently. Harry paused, and Kit gulped. Did he even have any idea what to do?

“Where do we go, then, Harry?” Ron asked.

“I donʹt—” Harry began. “Er— In the dreams I went through the door at the end of the corridor from the lifts into a dark room— thatʹs this one— and then I went through another door into a room that kind of... glitters. We should try a few doors. Iʹll know the right way when I see it. Cʹmon.”

Not the best plan, but they had no choice other than to follow Harry into the first room. After the darkness of the first room, the lamps hanging low on golden chains from this ceiling gave the impression that this long rectangular room was much brighter, though there were no glittering, shimmering lights as Harry said he’d seen in his dreams. The place was quite empty except for a few desks and, in the very middle of the room, an enormous glass tank of deep green liquid, big enough for all of them to swim in; a number of pearly‐white objects were drifting around lazily in it.

“What are those things?” said Blaise, grimacing at the sight.

“Are they fish?” breathed Ginny.

“Aquavirius Maggots!” said Luna excitedly. “Dad said the Ministry were breeding—”

“Oh Merlin,” said Kit, covering her mouth as she stepped forward. “Hermione— aren’t those—?”

“Brains,” Hermione confirmed. “I wonder what they’re doing with them…”

“Letʹs get out of here,” said Harry quickly. “This isnʹt right, we need to try another door.”

“There are doors here, too,” said Blaise, pointing around the walls. “A lot of them, actually…”

“In my dream I went through that dark room into the second one,” Harry said. “I think we should go back and try from there.” So they hurried back into the dark, circular room.

“Wait!” said Hermione sharply, as Luna made to close the door of the brain room behind them. “Flagrate!” She drew with her wand in midair and a fiery ʹXʹ appeared on the door. No sooner had the door clicked shut behind them than there was a great rumbling, and once again the wall began to revolve very fast, but now there was a great red‐gold blur in amongst the faint blue and, when all became still again, the fiery cross still burned, showing the door they had already tried.

“Smart,” mused Kit, feeling her chest beginning to ache. She’d never felt this nervous. “How about we try that one?” She pointed to the door that was now facing them. 

This room was larger than the last, dimly lit and rectangular, and the centre of it was sunken, forming a great stone pit some twenty feet deep. They were standing on the topmost tier of what seemed to be stone benches running all around the room and descending in steep steps like an amphitheatre. There was a raised stone dais in the centre of the pit, on which stood a stone archway with a tattered black veil that fluttered as though it was being touched. 

“Whoʹs there?” said Harry, approaching the veil.

“Don’t touch it,” said Blaise immediately when Harry peered toward the other side of the archway. “This isn’t the room you described. It’s— it’s giving me the creeps with all that whispering.”

“Whispering?” asked Kit. “What are you talking about?”

“I hear it too,” said Luna, and Harry nodded in agreement.

“Please, let’s get out of here,” said Hermione desperately, looking afraid. “Whatever that is— it’s dangerous. Please…”

Harry didn’t seem to want to listen at first, but her pleading was enough to get him to turn around. They left quickly, and this time, Kit took charge of marking the door as they reentered the circular room. Harry approached another door at random once the wall ceased spinning, but it was locked.

“ _Alohomora_!” Hermione cried, pointing her wand toward the handle. It didn’t budge, and Harry extracted Sirius’s knife, but this proved useless, as it melted the blade.

Blaise let out a loud huff. “Can’t be that door, then. _Flagrate_!” He marked it, and walked toward the one beside it. “Should we try this one?”

Harry nodded and pushed it open, and his eyes widened. “It’s this one! Come on!” 

They stepped inside and were greeted by beautiful, dancing, diamond‐sparkling light. Clocks gleamed from every surface, large and small, grandfather and carriage, hanging in spaces between the bookcases or standing on desks ranging the length of the room, so that a busy, relentless ticking filled the place like thousands of minuscule, marching footsteps. The source of the dancing, diamond‐bright light was a towering crystal bell jar that stood at the far end of the room.

“This way!” said Harry, urging them along down a narrow space between the lines of desks, heading toward the source of light. 

“Oh, lookl” said Ginny, as they drew nearer, pointing at the very heart of the bell jar. Drifting along in the sparkling current inside was a tiny, jewel‐bright egg. As it rose in the jar, it cracked open and a hummingbird emerged, which was carried to the very top of the jar, but as it fell on the draught its feathers became bedraggled and damp again, and by the time it had been borne back to the bottom of the jar it had been enclosed once more in its egg.

“Keep going!” said Harry sharply, because Ginny showed signs of wanting to stop and watch the eggʹs progress back into a bird.

“You dawdled enough by that old arch!” she said crossly, but followed him past the bell jar to the only door behind it.

“This is it,” Harry said again, and his heart was now pumping so hard and fast he felt it must interfere with his speech, “itʹs through here—” the others extracted their wands as he pushed open the door to reveal a very cold room of seemingly endless shelves filled with small, dusty, glass orbs. 

“You said it was row ninety‐seven,” whispered Hermione as they all stepped in, incredibly anxious.

“Yeah,” breathed Harry. “Keep your wands at the ready.”

Kit’s throat was pulsating at this point, and it was becoming hard to gulp. They walked on and on until they reached the fated row ninety-seven, only to find that there was absolutely no one there. Especially not Sirius. 

“I fucking knew this was some sort of trap,” hissed Blaise under his breath as they all looked around to try and see if anyone was nearby. 

“Harry,” called Ron’s voice after a few moments. “Have you seen this? It’s got your name on it.”

The previously dispersed group rejoined near where Ron was pointing at a small orb bearing Harry’s name. “What is that?” asked Kit very quietly. “Why is it there?”

“Harry, I donʹt think you should touch it,” said Hermione sharply, as he stretched out his hand.

“Why not?” he said. “Itʹs something to do with me, isnʹt it?”

“Donʹt, Harry,” said Neville suddenly. Nevilleʹs round face was shining slightly with sweat. He looked as though he could not take much more suspense.

“Please don’t touch it, mate,” said Blaise a bit weakly, as though he knew it was futile to try and convince Harry to do otherwise. “Please…”

But Harry closed his hand around it and pulled it out, examining it. When nothing immediately happened, Kit was initially relived, though still unnerved. Then— 

“Very good, Potter,” said a familiar voice. “Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me.”

They turned, seeing, horrified, more than a dozen black shapes with lit wand tips having blocked them in, eyes glinting through slits in their hoods.

“To me, Potter,” repeated the drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy as he held out his hand, palm up. “To me.”

“Where’s Sirius?” Harry demanded. 

Several of the Death Eaters laughed; a harsh female voice from the midst of the shadowy figures to Kit’s left said triumphantly, “The Dark Lord always knows!”

“Always,” echoed Lucius softly. “Now, give me the prophecy Potter.”

“I want to know where Sirius is!”

“ _I want to know where Sirius is_!” mimicked the woman to his left. She and her fellow Death Eaters had closed in. 

“Youʹve got him,” said Harry angrily. “Heʹs here. I know he is.”

“The little baby woke up fwightened and fort what it dweamed was twoo,” said the woman in a horrible, mock baby voice.

“Donʹt do anything,” Harry muttered when the others stirred nervously around him. “Not yet—”

The woman who had mimicked him let out a raucous scream of laughter, and Su, who’d been silent this entire time, clutched Kit’s free hand and let out a soft whimper of fear. “You hear him? You hear him? Giving instructions to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!”

“Oh, you donʹt know Potter as I do, Bellatrix,” said Lucius. “He has a great weakness for heroics; the Dark Lord understands this about him. Now give me the prophecy, Potter.”

“I know Sirius is here,” said Harry, though he sounded panicked. “I know youʹve got him!”

More of the Death Eaters laughed, though the woman laughed loudest of all. “Oh, dear boy,” said another familiar voice. The man stepped up and removed his hood, fixating his eyes on Kit with a wicked grin. Kenneth Thompson held his wand up higher, as if aiming directly for his daughter’s face. “It’s high time that you learned the difference between life and dreams. Why am I not surprised to see this particular group of children assembled here? No need to spill blood, Potter… not when it comes to your friends. Give us the prophecy and there will be no need to use our wands.”

“Yeah, right!” Harry said. “I give you this— prophecy, is it? And youʹll just let us skip off home, will you?” The words were hardly out of his mouth when Bellatrix shrieked— “ _Accio proph_ —” but Harry was ready for her, and shouted “ _Protego_!” before she could finish. 

The woman gave an evil chuckle. “Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter. Very well, then—”

“Now, now, Bella,” cooed Kenneth, smirking knowingly. “Let’s not forget our tempers and be reckless. Isn’t that right, Katherine?”

Kit didn’t answer, but squeezed Su’s hand in return. Kenneth’s lip twitched. “Well, Bella, it seems it’s your lucky day. We can each take a turn torturing them. Travers? I believe I have the perfect one for you. That one, there, clutching onto my brat of a daughter. Isn’t she Alexander’s little bastard baby?”

Su’s entire body went rigid, and Kit watched, horrified, as another Death Eater stepped forward beside Kenneth. “My my,” the man called Travers said in a nasty voice. “She’s his spitting image. Seems to me like we’ll have a nice little torture party if Potter doesn’t hand us the prophecy.”

The group seemed to subconsciously moved to protect Su, who was turning so pale that Kit worried she’d faint before anything happened. Harry decided to turn the attention back to him. “You’ll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us,” he told them. “I donʹt think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he? Besides, what kind of prophecy are we talking about, anyway?”

He was so clearly stalling, but it was working. Kit kept her wand down, but started formulating how she could try and nonverbally blast the Death Eaters back… 

“What kind of prophecy?” repeated Bellatrix, the grin fading from her face. “You jest, Harry Potter.ʹ

“Nope, not jesting,” said Harry. “How come Voldemort wants it?”

Several of the Death Eaters let out low hisses. “You dare speak his name?” whispered Bellatrix.

“Yeah,” said Harry. “Yeah, Iʹve got no problem with saying Vol—”

“Shut your mouth!” Bellatrix shrieked. “You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half‐bloodʹs tongue, you dare—”

“Did you know heʹs a half‐blood too?” said Harry recklessly. “Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle— or has he been telling you lot heʹs pure‐blood?”

“STUPE—” 

But her spell was unfinished, her voice stopping rather suddenly. Kit watched her father roll his eyes, his wand moving in its characteristic spirals when he was employing his curses. 

“Come now, Bella, you should know better than to get testy,” he chided. “We need the prophecy intact.”

“You havenʹt told me whatʹs so special about this prophecy Iʹm supposed to be handing over,” Harry demanded. 

“Do not play games with us, Potter,” said Lucius sharply. 

“Iʹm not playing games,” said Harry.

Kit started to tune out, a plan coming into her mind when she felt Harry pushing his foot against hers, as if signaling for her to communicate something to the others. Without daring to even move her mouth, she started to cast a spell, praying that the sound of the conversation would mask her when she whispered, very quietly, having cast a charm so that hopefully, only her group could hear, “when I say now… start smashing everything…”

She prayed it had worked. Her voice had carried within the small circle of fellow students, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw them look at her and nod their heads ever so slightly, the Death Eaters still focusing on Harry, who was distracting them with some stupid conversation about the prophecy— 

“NOW!” Kit yelled.

Seven different voices yelled out, “ _REDUCTO_!” sending jets of light in seven different directions, causing explosions to occur on so many glass orbs that the air before them became a torrent of crashing glass and splintered wood. 

“RUN!” Harry yelled, and they did exactly that. Kit yanked Su wildly behind Ginny, who was the quickest to get away. She could hear the Death Eaters had yelled, crying in pain, not having yet recovered to know what had even hit them. There were echoes of strange voices, and many shelves were still collapsing, with more smaller explosions being carried out from the initial blow. Kit dared to look back over her shoulder, aiming for the furthest point from her group, closest to the Death Eaters, and wordlessly cast another Reductor Curse, hearing another massive explosion happen just afterward. Su yanked her to the side immediately after, and within seconds, they were through three sets of doors, as far as they could have gotten with that initial distraction.

Kit whirled around to face the others, but her stomach did a flip when she realized that Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Blaise were not with them. “Where the hell did they go?” she hissed.

“I d-don’t know,” said Su shakily as Ron put a finger over his mouth, urging them to be quiet. He pointed back at the door, motioning for Kit to close it. She extracted her wand, and thought _‘Colloportus_ ,’ making it close gently. 

“It’s just us right now,” said Ron, looking nervously around. “So come on, let’s go.”

If only they'd known what they were about to walk into.


	58. Chapter 58

**Ron and Kit led the way, tiptoeing very carefully down a very unfamiliar hall that was feeling narrower with every step they took.**

They had their wands at the ready, and were trying to be as quiet as possible as they crept down the hallway toward a door at the end that would hopefully lead somewhere safer.

Then they heard voices.

“They’ve gone this way,” came the distant voice of Kenneth Thompson. “Now, Nott, Jugson, and Macnair are out of commission, so don’t underestimate these little brats. Lucius has taken Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rookwood, Avery, and Mulciber on his end— they’ll try to corner Potter to get the prophecy without breaking it. Remember, you are at perfect liberty to kill anyone who stands in your way.”

Su let out a very quiet whimper as they began to move faster toward the door. It sounded like the majority of the Death Eaters were with Lucius— so who was with her father?

The question was answered not long after. The door Kit had closed was blasted open, and they began to run, listening to the sound of the Death Eaters following closely behind them.

“Travers,” cooed Kenneth malevolently as they rounded the corner and caught sight of the group. “There’s yours to kill.”

“ _Reducto_!” screamed Ginny before the Death Eaters could fire. The wall behind them exploded, raining plaster all around them. Kit heard Su cry out a Protection Charm around their small group, and she took the chance to jab her wand toward the floor nearest the five approaching Death Eaters. “ _Glisseo_!”

Two of them stumbled, and Ron yelled for them to run. With all their might, they started to sprint the rest of the way to the door. Su was crying, holding her wand up and keeping a blueish dome strong around them as the Death Eaters fired curses at their backs. Luna made it to the door first and threw it open. Su ran in, then Ginny, but Ron and Kit stopped to turn around.

“Point at those bookshelves over there!” said Kit. The two raised their wands. “Repeat after me— _Oppugno_!”

Ron did so, and right as the books flew off the shelves, speeding toward the Death Eaters and preparing their assault. “Link hands!” Ginny said immediately when they found themselves in a pitch black room. “Run— just run!” 

Ron grabbed onto Su, Su onto Kit, Kit onto Luna, and Luna onto Ginny. They bolted forward, not caring to close the door because there was no way to stop the Death Eaters from following them anyway. They could hear loud crashes and thumps as the books collided with their targets. They sped across the room, praying that no obstacles would be in the way. They could hear roars of pain and anger, and several other explosions that suggested that they were destroying the attacking books.

Su started to pant loudly, trying to catch her breath as she started pitching ideas. “Fire whatever bloody spell pops into your head!” she said. “They’ll be onto us soon!”

As she finished speaking, her voice was drowned out by the sound of the door bursting open. 

“ _CONFUNDUS_!” roared an unfamiliar male voice. At first, Kit thought they were safe, but suddenly, her arm got yanked, and she realized someone had most certainly been hit. The spell had torn through Su’s dome. 

“Ron!” shrieked Su, who’d been pulled away from Kit when Ron fell. “RON!” 

Kit stopped and turned around. “ _STUPEFY_! _REDUCTO_!”

Something exploded, but she wasn’t sure what. Someone screamed, but she didn’t know who. As far as they knew, there was nothing major in the room. It was pitch black and they couldn’t even see each other. 

“ _Lumos_! Blast— it isn’t working!” came a female voice. “Rabastan, try it!”

“It’s not going to help— but it means those idiot kids can’t see either! I say we fire Killing Curses at random until we hear their bodies drop!”

“No, Rabastan, don’t be ridiculous,” came the female voice again. 

“You heard your father, Alana, we can kill them!” With horror, Kit realized that that was her sister’s voice. There was a pause on their end, and it seemed the Death Eaters were composing themselves before pursuing. Then, from out of the darkness—

“Come out, come out, Kitty…” came the eerie voice of Alana, hoarse but gentle, and echoing across the walls they couldn’t see. “It’s your sister. We won’t hurt you if you just submit… it’d be a pity to spill your blood since none of you are filthy Mudbloods.”

“She called you Kitty!” came Ron’s voice suddenly, making Kit nearly jump out of her skin. “Ha… you’re a cat!”

“Shit, they did hit him!” squeaked Su, yanking Ron up and covering his mouth. “Come on— come on, damn it!”

“ _Muffliato_ ,” whispered Ginny when Ron started to laugh uncontrollably. “Come on—” there was a rustling sound and someone grabbed Kit’s hand. “Is everyone holding onto something? We need to move before they see us…”

They started to move as fast as they dared, and Kit felt her skin crawl with fear as Ron kept laughing, though the sound was muffled, thankfully, due to Ginny’s spell. She couldn’t even focus on the fact that her sister was in the same room as her. Not that it mattered— Alana was trying to get her…

“This way,” said Luna very quietly, and Kit tugged Su and Ron toward the left. They could hear the voices of the Death Eaters somewhere behind, but they were rather ahead, and since Ginny had quieted their movements, they had the advantage for a bit. 

As they kept walking at a fast pace, they started to see some light. They began to move faster, faster, toward a large reddish brown sphere that was strangely familiar.

“Doesn’t that look like Mars?” asked Kit softly when they were beside it. The sphere was not as big as the actual planet, of course, but it seemed to be part of a model— some gigantic neverending model that was for some reason, hidden in this room. 

“Yeah, it does,” said Ginny quietly. “Does it move?”

Kit slowly tapped her wand against it, and the sphere tittered a bit. “It does. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yes,” Su said from beside her, clapping her hand harder over Ron’s mouth as he started to gasp dramatically, wanting to laugh again. “Come on, everyone, duck. Now.”

The others dropped down and Kit pressed her wand against the sphere. “ _Engorgio_. _Locomotor_ ,” she whispered. The sphere, now significantly larger, trembled and moved. Kit raised her wand, making it ease over the heads of her friends, floating slowly through the air. She could hear the voices getting closer… she flicked her wrist, and send the gigantic ball flying through, looking like a comet in its blur of red light. There was the sound of a tremendous crash, and a yell of pain.

“Move, now!” hissed Kit. They all sprang up, ignoring Ron, who was still giggling like mad. They started to run once more, reentering the darkness.

“FIND THEM!” screamed a more familiar voice— her mother. They could hear the sound of footsteps, and spells being blasted all about. Su cried out a very shaky “ _Protego_ ” and shot up another dome. Luna raised her wand and repeated the same, creating the slightest bit of light as they sprinted, not daring to look back, and ignoring the many pellets of light that were slamming into the dome from all angles, trying to penetrate it and render one or more of them unconscious.

“We have to find another door!” hissed Ginny, who was still waving her wand and desperately trying to keep up the muffling charm that was currently the only thing that kept the Death Eaters from pinpointing their exact location.

“Keep running straight, the room has to end somewhere!” said Kit, pointing her wand back over her shoulder, her other hand gripping Su’s tightly as the poor girl dragged a very inebriated Ron along. “ _STUPEFY_! _TARANTALLEGRA_! _INCENDIO_!”

More explosions, but Kit couldn’t be sure if any of her spells were hitting people. At the very least, she was putting up somewhat of a fight while the others kept them shielded through a barrier and a spell that’d keep them from dying. 

“Ha!” cried Ron, who was wiggling like a worm trying to get out of Su’s hold. “Kit said stupid! And who’s Cindy… cindy-o…”

“How do we take that off of him?” said Ginny worriedly.

“I don’t know if we can,” whispered Kit. “Whoever cast it hit him really hard with it— he’s completely disoriented. Let me try— _Finite Incantatem_!”

The spell hit Ron, and he just giggled. “It was worth a try,” huffed Ginny as they kept speed walking.

“Look!” cried Ron. “Big planet!”

They had reached another source of light. Jupiter. It was about the size of the Quidditch stadium, and the red spot alone was bigger than Hagrid’s hut. But this time, it wasn’t as peaceful as when they were near Mars. They’d run beside it, near the red spot where its anticyclonic storms took place. This had been a mistake.

Luna, who’d been nearest the red spot, let out a piercing scream as the sound of roaring wind sounded, and suddenly, like a vacuum, she was dragged in. Kit had cried out and grabbed her arm, but all it had done was create a terrible chain reaction that brought them all into a place that was completely blood red. They were swirling into nothingness, the wind violently whirling them around as if they were in the center of a hurricane. They were all screaming, but they were desperately clinging to each other— to absolutely anything that would keep them from getting separated. Kit could feel them rising (or were they falling?) and her hair was a mess over her eyes. All she could sense was that she was still holding onto Luna and Su, but she couldn’t see anything anymore—

Then suddenly, they’d been spit out. Her stomach had dropped as if she was plummeting down a mountaintop in a Muggle roller coaster, which she’d only been on once at a fair. This feeling was ten times worse, and they collided hard with the ground, once again in a patch of darkness.

“Holy f—” spit Su, looking around wildly for the others, though no one could see anything. “ _Protego_!” She cast another dome, looking about at the sprawled bodies. “Anyone injured?” she hissed. 

Ron let out a laugh in response, and Ginny, Luna, and Kit shakily got to their feet, looking at each other through the light of the dome. “No, I think we’re all just going to be bruised. Keep moving, quickly— _Muffliato_ ,” said Kit. 

They limped forward as fast as they dared, hearing footsteps everywhere. Kit was glad that Lumos didn’t work for the Death Eaters either, at least, so that they’d be just as lost. Her heart was hammering in her chest as they moved, and she felt it getting too quiet for her liking. 

“Let’s cast a few spells at random,” said Kit worriedly. “Come on— anything. Brief pause.”

They turned around, all pointing in different directions. A chorus of random spells shot out, and it turned out to be exactly what they’d needed, because they heard a yell and a thump nearby, suggesting someone had been upon them. 

They soon reached a more greenish beacon of light— a planet with its rings sideways. 

“HA!” said Ron even louder than before. “Wouldja look— it’s URANUS!”

“Ron!” hissed Ginny furiously, covering his mouth. “Shut up!”

“You guys— it’s URANUS!” Ron cackled, apparently finding this incredibly funny.

There was a sound and they whipped around, just in time to see Travers shoot a spell at Luna, seemingly having thought it was Su. Kit barely managed to shield her, and it was Su who came back with a vengeance, and fired a Stinging Hex right into Travers’ face. He let out a howl of pain, and Su angrily raised her wand again. “ _Locomotor Mortis_!” The man collapsed, his figure visible very clearly now due to the light emitting from the planet.

Ginny then stepped forward and muttered something under her breath, making Travers yell out as bats began to fly out of his nose. “Run!” she shrieked. “They’re gaining on us!”

They began to run once more, their hands no longer linked. This time, Kit could hear the scuffling of the Death Eaters following not far behind, none eager to fire spells at random when they couldn’t see, out of fear of hitting their own. They had run for so long that Kit’s legs absolutely ached, but none of them were about to stop. Even Ron seemed to understand that something was very much wrong, and was following closely behind Su an Luna, who were in the lead. 

They had just passed near what Kit thought to be Neptune when she heard a loud cackle. The blue light was enough for her to turn around and see her mother, clearly not in her right mind. “ _CRUCIO_!” she bellowed. 

They barely managed to duck. “ _Stupefy_!” screamed Luna, who recovered fastest. They scrambled up desperately, running with all their might. There better be a door on the other end or they’d be cornered for sure…

“IT’S PLUTO!” cried Ron enthusiastically when they reached the final sphere— Kit supposed they must have entered the room after the Sun, Mercury, Venus, and Earth spheres, and had been spit out by Jupiter way across from Saturn. 

Unfortunately, they hadn’t realized how close the others had come. Ginny suddenly let out a scream as someone yanked her down from behind. She crashed to the floor and let out another scream of pain simultaneous with a loud crack. Kit whirled around to see her father, and furiously shot her own stinging hex at him, leaping forward to kick him right in the face.

“Kitty Kat, hasn’t anyone ever told you to respect your elders?” cooed the voice of Alana. She wasn’t immediately there, but Kit could hear her getting closer.

“KIT, DUCK!”

She dropped to the floor beside Ginny immediately, just as her father was leaping up with his wand in hand. Pluto blew up behind him, barrelling forward with such force, it sent Kenneth flying back with a loud yell, followed by another scream— Alana must have been hit too.

“GO!” screamed Luna, who’d been the one that cast the spell. Kit yanked Ginny up and they ran, finding a door ready for their usage just a few feet away. Su threw it open and they spilled out of it, finding themselves back in the circular room of doors. Kit slammed the door shut behind them, and turned to find a very bewildered Harry, a bleeding Neville, and Blaise, carrying an unconscious Hermione.

“Ron!” croaked Harry. “Kit, Ginny, are you all—?”

“Harry,” said Ron, giggling weakly, blood now dribbling steadily from his mouth— it seemed he’d been knocked down by Su when Luna shot Pluto at the Death Eaters. “There you are... ha ha ha... you look funny, Harry... youʹre all messed up…”

Luna began to hurriedly explain what’d happened as Kit knelt by Ginny, whose ankle was bent at a terrible angle. “Sorry, Ginny, this might hurt— _Ferula_! _Episkey_!”

She let out a weak cry of pain, holding onto Su for support. They didn’t get very long to rest, because seconds later, another door burst open and three Death Eaters sped in, led by Bellatrix Lestrange.

“There they are!” she shrieked. 

Stunning Spells shot across the room and the group managed to bolt through one of the doors, barely closing it before one of the Death Eaters— Rodolphus— followed them through.

“It doesn’t matter!” he snarled from the other side of the door. “There are other ways in— WEʹVE GOT THEM, THEYʹRE HERE!”

They were back in the Brain Room. Kit, Harry, Neville, and Su tore around the room, sprinting to the many doors around and rushing to get them closed. There were footsteps running along behind the doors, every now and then another heavy body would launch itself against one, so it creaked and shuddered.

Luna was the last one that needed to close a door, but she didn’t make it in time. Her body flew through the air and five Death Eaters were surged into the room through the door she had not reached in time; Luna hit a desk, slid over its surface and on to the floor on the other side where she lay sprawled, as still as Hermione.

“Get Potter!” shrieked Bellatrix, and she ran at him.

“Hey!” said Ron loudly, giggling. “Hey Harry, Kit, there are brains in here, ha ha ha, isnʹt that weird?” 

“Ron, get away from those!” cried Kit as he bolted toward the brain tank. It was too late. He raised his wand, “ _Accio brain_!”

The scene seemed momentarily frozen. Harry, Ginny, Neville, Blaise, Su, Kit and each of the Death Eaters turned in spite of themselves to watch the top of the tank as a brain burst from the green liquid like a leaping fish: for a moment it seemed suspended in midair, then it soared towards Ron, spinning as it came— 

“Ha ha ha, Harry, look at it—” said Ron, watching it disgorge its gaudy innards, “Harry come and touch it; bet itʹs weird—”

“RON, NO!” Harry bellowed. The moment the tentacles made contact with his skin, Ron quickly learned that he most certainly should not have done that. He let out a pained cry. “No— no, I don’t like it— no, stop!” The thin ribbons were spinning around his arms and chest, and he tugged desperately to remove them.

Su launched herself forward, yanking at the brain with her hands. “Damn it— _Diffindo_!” The tentacles weren’t breaking, and Su let out a cry of fear— the tentacles were wrapping around his neck, they’d surely suffocate him—

But the others could no longer afford to pay attention. Blaise had had to set Hermione down gently beside an unconscious Luna, barely managing to deflect a curse. Ginny’s ankle was doing better, and she and Kit jumped to Neville’s side as he waved around a wand— belonging to Hermione— and tried to Stun the Death Eaters.

Harry tore through the crowd, holding the prophecy high above his head. Kit managed to keep a curse from shooting her way, but she watched in horror as he ran toward the room with the veil, trying to draw the Death Eaters away from them.

But at that point, they were determined to get rid of them. Blaise was the first to get knocked back— he’d tried to shield Ginny, who was still limping, and he’d flown back and collided with a wall, crumpling to the floor. Kit dared to glance sideways and saw that Su had somehow gotten the brain off of Ron, but the two of them lay unconscious on the floor, shivering and mumbling something. There were tentacle markings on both of them, and blood was pooling over the scars. 

Ginny had tried to make up for the loss with a hex, but had been hit in the chest with an orange light that made her yelp and fall to the floor, whimpering in pain, and wiggling like she was trying to get a hoard of ants off of her skin. “GET THEM OFF!” she screamed. “GET THEM OFF! THEY’RE ALL OVER ME!”

Neville had boldly run behind Harry, thinking the Death Eaters would stop focusing on Ginny and Kit to chase him instead. It partially worked, he managed to avoid several Stunning spells as he ran, which gave Kit the chance to stop the spell on Ginny, though it left her curled up on the floor, shaking her head and whining like she was still feeling some discomfort.

There were two Death Eaters left facing Kit, who she did not recognize. Wordlessly, she cast two Stinging Hexes, and managed to hit the first, narrowly dodging a spell from the other. She jumped behind a table and lifted her wand, blasting a Stunning Spell that thankfully, sent the Death Eater flying back.

She ran with all her might past them, into the room where Harry was still holding the prophecy in the air, the Death Eaters surrounding him. Horrified, Kit realized that her father and mother were there, bloody but upright. The woman beside them turned to look at her, smirking malevolently and sending her a taunting wave, disregarding the dried blood pooled over her clothes.

“Kitty,” Alana cooed maliciously. “Come, join the party.”


	59. Chapter 59

**The Death Eaters enclosed Neville, Kit, and Harry in a circle immediately.**

“Your race is run— all of you,” sneered Lucius, pulling off his mask. Kit looked around, her wand hand shaking. Her parents, Lucius, Alana, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, Travers, and the ones called Dolohov and Rookwood were all around them, jeering and eager to see their defeat. They were severely outnumbered. “Now, hand me the prophecy like a good boy.”

“Let— let the others go, and I’ll give it to you!” said Harry desperately, making the Death Eaters laugh. 

“You are not in a position to bargain, Potter,” said Lucius, his pale face flushed with pleasure. “You see, there are ten of us and only three of you... or hasnʹt Dumbledore ever taught you how to count?”

“He’s dot alone!” said Neville, his speech severely distorted from how much he was bleeding from his mouth. “He’s still god be and Kit!”

“You two need to get out of here,” said Harry fearfully. 

But Neville wasn’t going to back down. “STUBEFY!” he cried. “STUBEFY—” Rookwood yanked him up and seized him roughly, pinning his arms to his sides. He kicked and struggled, held in a position where he couldn’t get out. Kit gulped and stepped close to Harry as the Death Eaters laughed once more. 

“Itʹs Longbottom, isnʹt it?” sneered Lucius to Neville, who looked angry. “Well, your grandmother is used to losing family members to our cause... your death will not come as a great shock.”

“Longbottom?” repeated Bellatrix, and a truly evil smile lit her gaunt face. “Why, I have had the pleasure of meeting your parents, boy.”

“I DOE YOU HAB!” roared Neville, and he fought so hard against his captors encircling grip that the Death Eater shouted, “Someone Stun him!”

“No, no, no,” said Bellatrix. “No, I think we should do some reminiscing… Alana, dear, you remember him when he was a baby…”

Alana stepped forward, her lips curling into a sadistic grin. Her thin figure came closer, her wand out. She pressed it over Neville’s forehead and let out an unsettling giggle. “Yes, darling, I remember you,” she cooed, reaching a hand up to grip one of his cheeks roughly. “I remember how hard your filthy blood traitorous mother fought me to keep you safe… it was so pitiful… I rather enjoyed seeing the look on her face… I watched her eyes for the exact moment when she lost her mind, you know?” 

Neville was glaring at Alana hatefully, but she wasn’t fazed. She giggled again and patted his head. “Now, Harry,” she said, turning to face him, her hand still on Neville. “You have two choices. One, give us the prophecy, and I’ll let Augusta keep her grandson. After all, I always did like Augusta… she was rather kind to me whenever I’d spend summers with Alice… at least, until I got her daughter-in-law sent to St. Mungo’s. Two… well, I’d very much like to get rid of the Longbottoms once and for all.”

“DON’D GIB ID DO DEM!” roared Neville, who was still kicking and writhing desperately, wanting more than anything to send Alana straight into her grave. “DONʹD GIB ID DO DEM, HARRY!”

“Oh, shut up,” Alana hissed, turning to face him. “Let me guess, Harry, you need motivation? Fine. _Crucio_!”

Neville bellowed in pain, and Kit gasped as she watched him writhe in Rookwood’s hold. Alana smirked as she kept the spell up for a few more seconds, tapping her fingers impatient against her hip. She finally released it, and Neville was dropped to the floor.

“That was just a small taste,” she said, winking at Harry. “I assure you, I won’t even be the worst in terms of that curse… Bella here would love her turn torturing him. She was the one that delivered the final blow to Frank, you see…”

“That’s right, Potter,” said Bellatrix, her eyes wild with malice. “Now, either give us the prophecy, or watch your little friend die the hard way!”

Neville was shaking his head weakly, begging Harry to not give it. But Kit was staring at him with her eyes wide, stinging with tears from the scene she’d just witnessed. Whatever upper hand the stupid prophecy gave Voldemort, it wasn’t worth Neville’s death…

Harry made the decision. He stepped forward, and was about to hand it to Lucius when high, above them, two doors burst open and five people sprinted into the room: Sirius, Lupin, Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley. 

Lucius turned, and raised his wand, but Tonks had already sent a Stunning Spell right at him. Kit did not wait to see whether it had made contact, but dived off the dais out of the way, pulling Harry with her. The Death Eaters were completely distracted by the appearance of the members of the Order, who were now raining spells down upon them as they jumped from step to step towards the sunken floor. Through the darting bodies, the flashes of light, Kit could see Neville crawling along.

She scrambled across the floor with Harry, the both of them moving as fast as they could toward Neville. “Let’s go, now!” she hissed. “We have to— AHH!”

A spell had collided right beside Kit’s hand, blasting open the stone floor. She leapt back, falling onto Harry, who’d been trying to get up. A crater was left right where she’d been just a second before, and Neville yanked her off of Harry. 

“Where are the others?” Harry cried out. 

“Blaise, Su, and Ron are unconscious,” stammered Kit, shakily getting to her feet and trying to register what was happening around them. She and Harry pulled Neville up. “Ginny got hit with—”

She didn’t finish. A curse hit right at their feet and they leapt apart, which left someone to tackle Harry to the floor. Kit sprang forward to tear the person off, ignoring the fact the Death Eater elbowed her in the face. Neville jumped to her aide, tackling the man off. His hands had been around Harry’s throat, attempting to crush his windpipe to subdue him. Coughing frantically, Harry wheezed and looked up as Kit pulled him to stand once more. 

“RUN!” She screamed.

There was chaos all around them. Harry sprinted away and Kit launched forward to help Neville, who was wrestling the man on the floor. Behind them, Sirius was dueling with Rodolphus. Kingsley was taking on both Alana and Rabastan. Tonks was drawing Bellatrix’s fire and Moody was somewhere battling Kenneth and Lucius, while Lupin stopped Dolohov from finding more Death Eaters to fight.

“ _STUPEFY_!” Kit cried, her wand pointed right at Rookwood, who Neville had been fighting. His hold on Neville went limp, and she jumped up, kicking him in the face and ignoring the sickening crunch of her heel colliding with his nose. She pulled Neville up, who stumbled and grasped the wand on the floor.

They began to run after Harry, but it seemed the odds had taken a dreadful turn. She turned and saw Lupin stumbling back, holding his side, and Dolohov began to pursue Harry, who was just ahead of them. 

“NO!” screamed Kit, sending a hex his way. The Death Eater avoided it and turned around. “ _Tarantallegra_!” The spell hit Neville, whose legs immediately went into a frenzied tap-dance, unbalancing him and making him crash to the floor. Kit had no time to stop and help— she ran with all her might and jumped, managing to knock Dolohov down before he could hit Harry.

Legs flew and somehow, she got hit in the face, and her vision blurred as Dolohov pulled her up roughly by the hair. He raised his wand and pointed it at her face—

Sirius hurtled in out of nowhere, ramming Dolohov with his shoulder and sending him flying out of the way. He yanked Kit to follow him, as if wordlessly telling her that they’d both be in charge of protecting the prophecy from being snatched by the wrong people. 

Sirius and Kit had just reached Harry when Dolohov composed himself. It was Harry who whirled around to check, and managed to cast a Body Bind Curse on the man before he could pursue.

“Nice one!” shouted Sirius as Dolohov’s arms and legs snapped together, sending him crashing to the floor. “Now, I want you to to get out—”

The three of them ducked down, narrowly missing getting hit by a jet of green light. Across the room, Tonks had fallen down the stone steps, her limp form rolling down and stopping at a stone seat. Bellatrix, cackling triumphantly, ran back towards the fray. This gave Neville, who’d been running after them, just enough time to reach them, his legs still tap dancing like crazy.

“Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville and Kit, and run!” Sirius yelled, dashing to meet Bellatrix. 

“ _Finite Incantatem_!” cried Kit, pointing her wand at Neville. His legs gave out, and she caught him before he fell again. “Can you stand?!”

“Yeah!” he said, though he held onto Kit for support as he started running again.

They didn’t get very far. Lucius Malfoy jumped in front of them, and they skidded to a halt, wands raised. “Give me the prophecy, Potter,” he snapped, pointing his wand at Kit. “This needn’t get messier.”

“You’ll have to forgive me for this, godfather,” said Kit, wincing as she dared to try the same thing that’d addled Ron. “ _Confundus_!”

It hit Lucius square in the face, but it must not have been cast correctly, because he simply crumpled to the floor. “Shit, I hope he isn’t dead,” said Kit as they started to run again. “I don’t know how I’ll explain to Draco that—”

She was very suddenly yanked back, and she whirled around to try and elbow the person, onto to have a fist collide with her face, causing her vision to blur and her head to spin. 

“Give me the prophecy!” screeched Alana, her arm outstretched from beside Kit. “NOW!”

“Led her bo!” yelled Neville, stepping in front of Harry to shield him. Alana let out an angry, shrill cry. “ _Crucio_! Idiot boy! I have no bloody problem going through you!”

“Stop it!” cried Kit, thrashing in her arms. She stomped hard on her sister’s foot, and careened her own body forward with all her might, making Alana tumble down with her. “Harry run! I’ll hold her off!”

Harry dragged a still yelling Neville away, and Kit shot a hex directly at the woman on the ground beside her. Alana sneered and stood up, her wand pointing at the ground. “Stupid, stupid, Kit,” she hissed. “Father told me you were a snivelling blood traitor but I didn’t think my own flesh and blood could be such a disgrace!”

“You were like this too, once!” said Kit desperately. “Alana, you’re being mind controlled, I know it!”

“Not everyone needs Father’s influence to see the truth, Kitty,” she said in a shrill voice, raising her wand and pointing it at her. “Perhaps I can’t get the prophecy from your little friend, but I’ll be just as entertained torturing you! Cru—”

She was blasted back into the nearest wall, and a breathless Sirius made himself known beside Kit. But Alana recovered quickly, and with a sickly smile, waved at Sirius as if they were seeing each other from across the hallway at school after fifteen years. “Hello there, Padfoot,” she cooed. “Long time no see.”

“Alana,” he said breathlessly. “This isn’t you. You know it, and I know it. You’d have never stood for your father’s idiotic ideals. Your mother— she’s just behind the dais over there— she’s already snapped out of it and your father hasn’t realized. He’s doing the same to you, can’t you realize?”

“My mother,” she scoffed, “is an airhead who could never have reached her full potential, were it not for my father! You think my mind is being controlled just because I’m not the same ditzy girl you remember from Hogwarts? I submitted willingly!”

“You didn’t, Alana,” Sirius said with unnatural gentleness. “You were our friend, the unofficial fifth Marauder. Please, baby, you’ve got to remember—”

“And there you go, acting as if what we had meant _anything_ to me!” she laughed, rolling her eyes. “Stupid, naive, Sirius… I really don’t know why I ever chose you over your brother. Regulus and I had been secretly involved with the Dark Lord for ages! You were just the pawn I needed to keep my secret under wraps…”

Sirius looked pained, but Kit was hardly paying attention anymore. In a brief moment she’d turned and seen that what Sirius had said was true— not far from where they were standing, Alison was sitting on the floor, looking rather disoriented, but definitely out of her trance. She looked thoroughly confused, as if she didn’t know why she was here in the first place.

“This isn’t you, Alana,” said Sirius desperately. He lowered his wand and offered her his hand. “You remember when I asked you to dance? The party in Gryffindor Tower? You— you kissed me and for the first time, really meant it. You told me about your plans for our future. I told you... that we could travel the world. That we could get away from our parents. Remember? I said... we'd be unstoppable. We'd conquer the world and die happy."

There was a brief sense of recognition in Alana’s face. She blinked, and slowly, she began to lower her wand, staggering back as though the memory had hit her like a boulder in the head. Kit felt her heart skip a beat, and she moved forward to take her sister’s hand. “Alana—”

The woman moved too fast for her to have seen it coming. She knocked Kit’s wand out of her hands and put her into a chokehold, pressing her wand to her head. Kit couldn’t see her face as she felt her press her forearm against her throat, but she had the terrible feeling that Alana was smiling.

“That was a cute attempt,” she said, making Sirius’s face go pale as he raised his wand again, realizing that talking her out of it was not going to benefit anyone. “But I am not being mind controlled. There is no trance to snap me out of. You’re both fools, and I’m going to relish in killing— _Mother_! What the hell are you doing?”

Alison had come up from behind Sirius. Kit was thrashing desperately, trying to get away, to breathe. She could see two of the Death Eaters lay unconscious on the floor. Kingsley and Moody were very occupied, taking the fire from Kenneth and Bellatrix, while Lupin was barely holding up against the two Lestrange brothers, who were both bleeding profusely. Alana’s grip on Kit became painful as she tried to cut her air supply off completely. “Get away!” she snarled to her mother. “NOW!”

“Let go of your sister, Alana,” said Alison, her voice trembling. “She doesn’t need to be hurt.”

“Don’t be stupid!” Alana spat, her grip on Kit only loosening as she moved to point her wand at the woman instead. “You’re going to ruin everything!” 

Alison’s presence had given Sirius the distraction he needed. He shot a spell, landing right on Alana’s arm and making her screech in pain and drop Kit. The woman retaliated, but he was ready, and they began to duel.

“Let’s go!” said Alison, running forward and pulling her daughter up. “We’re getting out of here— now!”

“M-Mother?” Kit said shakily as she followed behind her mother. She could feel her head pulsating, and the floor looked blurry beneath her.

“Yes, Kit, come on, hurry!” she said. But it was too late— they’d been spotted. Kenneth very suddenly gave up on trying to duel Moody, after he’d left Kingsley stumbling back at Bellatrix’s mercy.

“ALISON!” he roared. He was onto them within seconds, and everyone else was too occupied with the remaining Death Eaters to help them. Kit screamed as she was pulled away from Alison and shoved to the floor. 

“Idiot, idiot girl,” Kenneth spit furiously. “You won’t be a problem after today, I assure you!” He pressed his wand into her forehead. “ _CRUCIO_!”

Kit let out an ear-splitting scream, her eyes closing as she thrashed wildly on the floor. Searing pain was shooting into her body like knives once more. It’d been an entire year since she felt this, and yet the pain that came with it had not been forgotten. If anything, it was amplified as she felt flashbacks of the last time she’d felt torture like this.

“LEAVE HER!” Alison had extracted her wand, and was glaring at Kenneth.

He sneered up at her. “You’re no match for me, Alison, you’ve known this for ages…”

“I said leave her!” she snarled. “ _STUPEFY_!”

Kenneth flew off of Kit, who scrambled up, but was met with dizziness like never before. Where the hell was her wand? Why was the floor shaking? She couldn’t walk properly, and she stumbled behind her mother, who shielded them both as Kenneth regained his composure, looking more furious than Kit had ever seen him.

“You will regret defending that brat, Alison,” Kenneth sneered. “I’ll make sure you suffer for it—”

They began to duel, and it was like nothing Kit had ever seen before. She’d never seen either of her parents in such a fight. Contrary to what Kenneth might believe, Alison was most certainly a match for him. In her dazed state, Kit could see jets of light of every color soaring through the air, being deflected and overpowered. Kenneth’s agility was much greater, but Alison's precision was better. Where he missed her completely with a spell, he made up for it by recovering faster. Where she barely managed to duck and protect herself, she made up for it by sending a dead set spell crashing into his figure.

Kit’s ears were ringing. All she could hear were crashes and explosions. She looked up and saw none other than Albus Dumbledore looking down at the scene, before swooping down, ready. She watched as the Lestrange brothers were struggling to keep up with Lupin, Kingsley, and Moody, though all of the men looked gravely injured. She could see Bellatrix had run, as if going to send a message to someone. Sirius and Alana were still immersed in a duel as well, somewhere to her right, and she couldn’t really see Harry or Neville, but she could distantly hear their voices…

“AHHH!” 

Kit had looked back just as her mother crumpled to the floor. Next thing she knew, Kenneth had yanked her up and pulled her toward Alison, who was limp on the ground, and breathing very shallowly. 

Kenneth forced Kit onto the ground, sitting right beside Alison. He held her head roughly, holding her tightly and making her watch as Alison’s mouth began to bleed. Kit started trying to get away, but Kenneth smacked her hard. “Your mother is dying,” he sneered. “That’s what happens to anyone who dares to oppose me. You will watch her die, and then, I will kill you…”

It was the most terrible thing Kit had to witness. She couldn’t move enough to get away, and even if she could, she was too weak. Her eyes were stinging with tears as her father held her at a painful angle staring downward, forcing her to watch as Alison bled, and winced in pain. The woman was struggling to draw breath, and she let out a whimper when she realized Kit was watching.

“K-Kit,” she said hoarsely. “Kit… m-my… my baby…”

“NO!” screamed Kit, trying to get her father off of her. “NO— Mother— Mother, just— just hold on— there has to be a spell or something—”

Kenneth let out a sadistic laugh. “Don’t be stupid, Katherine, this is a spell of my own making. You would never know how to keep her from dying.”

“Baby,” whispered Alison, keeping her gaze steady on her daughter, despite the baleful watch of her husband. She reached her hand, barely able to brush her fingertips over Kit’s knees. “My baby… my little one… you’re going to be okay.”

“M-M-Mother,” Kit choked, tears streaming down her face as Alison coughed, her eyes flickering closed. “N-No! No—! M-Mum… mum don’t c-close your e-eyes!”

“My darling,” she whispered, so softly that Kit could barely hear her. Her hand brushed over her knees again, and the gentlest of smiles graced her bleeding mouth. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry, my baby… I wish we had more time…”

“MUM!” screamed Kit, her neck aching from how hard Kenneth was holding her, forcing her to watch her mother’s life slipping away, restrained so that there was nothing she could do to help. “MUM! Don’t— Don’t give up! STOP IT! I-I— there— there h-has to b-be something— you— you just need to hang on! MUM!”

“We’ll see each other again,” Alison croaked, spitting out more blood as she gave a shuddering breath. “Remember,” she whispered, opening her eyes one last time. Kit had never noticed how similar her eyes were to her mother’s. “I love you forever. I’m… I’m so sorry I never got… got to show…” Her hand went limp, and her eyes remained open, unblinking.

Kit let out an anguished scream. She was going hysterical— as hysterical as she could have gone given her position. Kenneth let out a mirthless laugh and threw Kit onto the floor beside the dead body of her mother, standing up and pointing his wand at her. “My, my, how long I’ve waited for this moment,” he said, his voice eerily soft. “Finally, rid of my two biggest burdens. It’s a pity you didn’t just conform… Alison needn’t have died. This was all your fault, Katherine. I’ll be sure to… send Draco your body. Avada Ke—”

Kenneth had been blasted back before his spell could be finished. Kit started to hyperventilate. This wasn’t happening— this couldn’t be happening. Her ears were buzzing, and she turned her head, staring into the lifeless eyes of Alison Smith, the woman her father had ruined, the mother she’d never gotten to have.

Her chest was aching as she looked up. She could see Alastor Moody above her, he was dueling Kenneth again. Her heart was beating so hard that it felt she might explode. She could see Dumbledore was gone, and so was Harry. Her mind was clouded— this was too much, she couldn’t handle it. She could see Alana was nowhere, and Sirius was running her way… 

Sirius didn’t make it before Kit went unconscious.


	60. Chapter 60

**For three days, Kit did not speak to anyone.**

Sirius had remained at her and Harry’s bedside the entire time. He was battered and limping, but he’d disregarded his own health to make sure that both were eating properly, even though Kit was unresponsive the whole time.

Alastor had arrived on the third day, when he’d received word that Kit was neglecting anyone and everyone who tried to speak to her. He had arrived with a notebook and a piece of parchment with quite a bit of notes.

“Kit,” said Sirius gently, drawing back the curtains around her bed. “Mad-Eye is here to see you.”

She had glanced up to show she’d heard him, and although she was in no mood to speak to Alastor, she didn’t want to say anything. Thus, Moody limped over, and came to sit beside her.

“So you’re on a silence streak, Kit?” he said gruffly, his magical eye whizzing around. She didn’t answer. “Fine by me, I’d prefer you didn’t interrupt me to ask questions and rant.”

Kit glared at him. If this was him trying to be funny, she was unamused. She wasn’t even sure why she refused to speak. She just had no strength to do it.

“Your mother was a very intelligent woman, Kit,” said Alastor. “And I know she’s the last person you want to hear about right now. But this journal I have here contains a very good explanation of just what your father did to her. In her lucid moments, she kept this up. Had a very complex charm placed on it, so that it’d appear on my desk when she died. I think she knew I’d be the one to tell you the truth. Or she wanted me to be that person.”

The brunette moved to lay on her side, still staring at him to at least demonstrate her interest in listening, but tucking her pillow under her to be ready to drift off if the conversation got overwhelming.

“First off, your father is gone. Completely MIA. Him, and all the Lestranges— your sister included. Malfoy and a couple of others are in Azkaban. We’ll find them, Kit. You can be sure of that. Now, let’s begin.”

And so began the painful run through of what Alison Smith had gone through in her life. In her youth, she had been just like Kit. Rebellious, spontaneous, energetic, and determined. She herself had played Quidditch, a Keeper for the Slytherin team. Her father, Vincent Smith, raised her without the presence of her mother, who’d died in childbirth. He was controlling and cruel, but Alison had never let that stop her from being who she wanted to be. Unfortunately, she’d never truly been free. At thirteen, she was told that she was to marry the twenty year old son of her father’s best friend. She met Kenneth Thompson within the year, and when she was fifteen, they were wed, and told that they’d become Death Eaters once Alison graduated from Hogwarts.

She had not wanted this. She had no idea that she was to be forced into the ranks of the still young Lord Voldemort, who had just graduated Hogwarts the same year she’d been born. Her refusal had angered Kenneth, who had previously been respectful. And so, the mind control began. Douglas Thompson had already been teaching his son the evil variations of the Imperious Curse that his father before him had taught him. Vincent and Douglas had helped Kenneth cast it the first time, and just like that, Alison became the obedient wife he wanted. The day she turned seventeen, he bed her, and within the year, she had given birth to Alana, who was sent to live with her godparents, Rodolphus Lestrange Sr. and Karina Lestrange, who raised her alongside their sons Rodolphus and Rabastan in order for Alison and Kenneth, who were younger, to become more prominent members of Voldemort’s ranks.

It seemed that ever so often, Alison was able to remain lucid long enough to keep her journal. To write whatever she could remember. She snuck into Kenneth’s journals and copied his notes about the sadistic, psyche-altering curse that she was stuck under. She tried to create a counter curse to protect herself, and proved unsuccessful. Kenneth renewed the curse too often— there were never many lucid moments in her past. But one entry stuck out, and Alastor handed it to Kit to read. 

“ _August 31st, 1980. I am lucid post-labor, and am holding my beautiful baby girl in my arms. She is so tiny, and innocent, and I fear that this may be the last time I can remember her like this. Tomorrow, Kenneth will refresh the curse, and I have yet to find a way to fight it. It feels like I am floating, and my mind cannot fight it. When he holds it, I feel calm, and my body acts on its own, doing whatever he tells me to do. He has not refreshed it in months because of my pregnancy, and yet, I have not been able to find a way to fix it. To my beautiful daughter, who I think should be named Katherine, after my mother, who I never got to meet— I want you to one day know how loved you are, and how much joy it brings me to be able to write this in hopes that one day, you will see it. I know not whether I will ever be able to parent you the way you deserve. All I can hope is that you will not be ruined, like Alana. My eldest, your sister, is in peril. She loves another, and yet, is being forced to marry in her father’s best interests. I know Kenneth is teaching Rabastan the curse now; it is only a matter of time before Alana loses herself, and it hurts that I cannot do anything more than write about it. Her curse is not the same as mine… the modifications are terrifying and I fear even in the future, my daughter will never be free. I pray, Katherine, that one day you will see this and help your sister return to Sirius Black. I met him once, and though I was not lucid, I recall his gentle eyes, and mischievous smile_.”

Kit felt herself crying all over again when she finished. She sniffled and gulped, shakily handing the notebook back to Alastor, who shook his head. “That is yours,” he told her. “Keep it.”

“I-I didn’t know where my name came from,” said Kit quietly, making Sirius look up at her. “I… I just thought… they picked something lame…” she shook her head. “Why— why the hell didn’t Alana snap out of it? What variation did they make for her that she’s completely lost it?”

“I don’t know,” sighed Alastor. “I hate saying that. I never want to be second best to Kenneth and yet, the lot of us always are. His intelligence would have done us very well if he worked for the Order, but instead, it became a weapon that the Death Eaters have been using time and time again.”

“He just vanished?” Kit muttered. “Without a trace?”

“Seems so. He was seen, though. Fudge issued a statement acknowledging that Dumbledore and Potter had been telling the truth this whole time. Mentioned Pius Thicknesse will replace Kenneth as the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. I don’t doubt Kenneth will find Thicknesse and mind control him too…”

“Fudge is a fucking idiot,” Kit snapped, sitting up and taking her glass of water before drinking it. 

“Well, he’ll be gone soon, and we’ve just got to will the next Minister for Magic to not be a blundering idiot. Now, about your living situation…”

“Would you like to live at Grimmauld Place?” asked Sirius, coming to sit at the foot of Kit’s bed. “Unfortunately, Dumbledore does not think it wise for Harry to live with me— he believes he is more protected remaining with that dreadful sister of Lily’s… but Harry thinks you should still come and live with me. We can visit him often.”

“And you’d get proper training, of course,” added Alastor in his usual gruff voice, though it was a bit softer now that he was talking to Kit. “I expect you wouldn’t be opposed to learning a few things, would you?”

Kit started to speak, but her lip trembled. “I— I… I want… I want to learn how to send a Patronus with a message properly. I a-almost managed, but someone disrupted it because it took me to long to conjure a proper one. If… If I’d succeeded, the message would have gotten to the Order faster. My mother wouldn’t be dead.”

“Kit,” said Sirius, coming closer and taking her hand. “Your mother’s death is not your fault. You shouldn't blame yourself. You did nothing wrong. You were incredibly brave, and you kept a lot of your friends from being killed. She is so, so proud of you right now, and wherever she is, she’s watching over you.”

The Ravenclaw felt her eyes well up with tears again. “I-I’d like to live at Grimmauld Place,” she said softly, her voice quivering. “I-If you’d want me there.”

Sirius beamed at her, and nodded. “Of course I’d want you there. We’ll have a good time. You can go see your friends whenever you’d like. We can sleep until noon and stay up all night planning pranks with Harry when he visits… we’ll put our heads together and figure out how to help Alana, and we’ll get you in shape to become an Order member by the time you turn seventeen, yeah? How does that sound? Oh, and well, I suppose Malfoy could come over, too, but if you two get at it, at least do me the courtesy of asking me to cast a silencing charm and—”

“Sirius!” shrieked Kit, flushing in embarrassment as she covered her face. He chuckled and pulled her in for a hug. “You’re always welcome in my home, Kit. After all, if things had gone my way, I’d be your super cool brother-in-law and I’d have been a terrible influence to you when you were growing up.”

At least, their chat had boosted Kit’s morale a bit. 

She had been released the following day. Not that she’d needed to stay as long as she did— compared to the others she’d been rather fine, just in shock and grieving. Hermione had made a steady recovery, apparently having been hit by a curse from Dolohov. Blaise and Ginny had recovered the fastest, followed by Luna, then Su and Ron, who’d been left with marks where the brains had wrapped their tentacles around them. Kit swore that she saw Su press a kiss on Ron’s forehead the night before she’d been discharged, and it made her smile to think that they had grown closer after the ordeal. 

They hadn’t been allowed visitors aside from Order members who’d come to check in, therefore Kit had had to wait to see Draco. But when she appeared around the corner, where he’d been waiting on a bench near the Hospital Wing nearly all day for the past days, he bolted toward her and caught her in a tight hug.

“Kit Kat,” he breathed, holding her so close that she had to squeak three times to let him know he was crushing her. “Shit— sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

She gave him a weak smile. “Hey, Smok,” she said quietly. “Let’s… talk.”

Draco was a good listener. They had spent the day walking around the school, and Kit had told him every last detail about the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. He had held her hand throughout, caressing the back of it whenever he heard her breath hitch, or saw her blink away tears. When she had gotten to the end and told him about her mother’s journal, and Alana’s unique curse, he had hugged her again.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his hands rubbing over her lower back. “Really, Kit… I don’t know what else to say. That never— never should have happened. I should have just gone with you… I can’t believe my father…”

She pulled back, and brought her hands to his face. “You see the truth, don’t you?” she whispered. “By now… you’ve seen and heard enough to realize how wrong they are.”

“I do. And I… I am sorry I didn’t see it from the start. This— this is sickening. We can’t let them get away with this, we have to defeat them. Whatever it takes.” 

He then stopped, hesitating to say more. Kit furrowed her eyebrows. “Draco? What aren’t you telling me?”

He bit his lip. “My father’s letter. The one where he threatened you. I didn’t… I didn’t tell you the contents of it. He was mentioning that he and your father were wanting to prepare me to become a Death Eater.”

Kit’s heart sunk into her stomach. “Oh… and now that your father…”

“Is in Azkaban,” finished Draco, “well… now I have to. I… I don’t have a choice. Otherwise, they’ll kill my mother. She didn’t help with any of this, and I know they’ll see her as useless. I… I’m the only thing that will keep her safe. If I don’t do this they’ll just kill the lot of us.”

For a long moment, neither spoke. They listened to the other’s breathing, how it steadied or picked up in tune with their thoughts. There were times they wanted to say something, but didn’t know if they should. Eventually, it was Kit who let out a soft sigh.

“You don’t have a choice, do you?” she mumbled, mostly to herself. “You have to, or Narcissa is dead.”

Draco gave a slow nod. He was determined to not get sentimental. But this terrified him. He never wanted to become a Death Eater, never wanted to become a killer. The last thing he’d ever desired was to join their ranks. Even when he’d thoroughly believed the lies his father drilled into his head about superiority and the natural order of the world. He never wanted to have to work for the Dark Lord. But now, there was no other option, unless he’d rather see his mother killed, and experience death himself. 

“I… I’ll do it with you,” said Kit suddenly, before she’d had much time to think about it.

“No.” It flew out of Draco’s mouth so instinctively. “Absolutely not. I won’t ask you to give up your freedom like that, Kit Kat. It’s way too dangerous. You almost died the other day and you’ve just lost your mother. Your sister is too cursed to be of any help and your father is going to make this really bad— no. You can’t. Don’t you dare ever suggest something like that again.”

“I can’t let you go through it alone!” she said, stepping away from him. “You should never have to deal with that by yourself!”

“Kit, you shouldn’t even be considering getting involved with Death Eaters! They’ll destroy you! You’re a blood traitor to them, and they will either murder you outright or hurt you in sickening ways! I won’t let you put yourself in danger— you’re insane if you think I’d agree to something like this!”

“Draco, I’d be doing it alongside you— they wouldn’t object! I… I know it’s a risk but—”

“IT’S SUICIDE!” bellowed Draco, looking livid. “No— you’ve lost your bloody mind. You can’t tell me that after you’ve looked death in the eye, you really think it wise to insert yourself into the single most dangerous organization in this country! NO!”

Kit growled. How could she tell him that she no longer cared if she lived or died? How could she convey that she didn’t feel her life had meaning anymore? “This isn’t your choice, it’s mine. You don’t get to tell me whether or not I can choose this.”

“Yes I fucking can!” he snapped. “I may not have a choice, but if I did, you wouldn’t want me to do it either! ADMIT IT!”

“It doesn’t matter what would happen if you did have a choice, because the point is that you don’t, and I don’t want you to go through it alone—”

“Did our conversation before mean nothing to you?! Kit, I’m dangerous to you! I hurt you! This is a perfect fucking example of it— you’re willing to throw everything away just for my sake! I’m— I’m ruining you!”

“You’re not ruining me! Draco, I want this— I don’t care about anything else anymore, I won’t have you suffering alone with them—”

“NO!” he spat, so forcefully that Kit flinched. “No, no, no, no! If you even dare— dare to show up— dare to think about this again, I swear— I will— I will—”

“You’ll what?” she said quietly, taking a tiny step back. Her eyes were wide with fear. For an instant, she actually thought she’d made him angry enough to retaliate. Never before had she been so convinced me might harm her. Sure, he had been mad before, but never to this extent. It didn’t help that she could still see her father, standing over her, ready to kill her, a gleeful look on his face after he forced her to watch her mother die… 

She had zoned out unknowingly, and when she came to, Draco was gone. She managed to see his figure turn the corner quickly. Letting out a shaky sigh, she hugged herself, rubbing her arms and sinking to the ground, right in the middle of the hallway.

She didn’t know what to do. What to think. Everything felt confusing and wrong and empty. Was she even meant to be standing here? Was anything ever going to change, or was this meant to be her life for all of eternity?

She wanted more than anything to protect Draco. To keep him out of harm’s way. And yet, this time, she was powerless. Her only thought was that somehow, she had to help him, and her impulses were screaming at her to just shove aside her pride and take the Dark Mark, for his sake, so that he wouldn’t be alone. She didn’t care if it put her in danger. She had been unable to protect her mother, and she had lost her, and Merlin be damned if she was going to dare let the same thing happened to Draco. Not if she could help it.

When the term ended, she didn’t see Draco. He’d been avoiding her. Kit knew why. In his mind, he thought that if he abandoned her, she’d stop caring about him, and lose her attachment to him, meaning she’d be safe on the inevitable day that he joined the Dark Lord. But Kit was relentless, and though she did not see him on the Hogwarts Express on the last day, she knew better than to give up on him. She cared too much to let him go. 

She, Su, Blaise, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Neville, and Harry had sat together on the ride back to King’s Cross. They’d talked, played chess (which Kit was still very bad at). Harry had purchased several sweets for them to share, and for a moment, Kit had felt like a normal teenager.

Except she wasn’t. Her sixteenth birthday would come the day before she returned for her sixth year. By now, she’d seen and gone through too much to even consider herself remotely normal. Everything about her was bizarre and complicated. Anyone else’s biggest worry that summer would be their O.W.L. scores and nothing more. For Kit, it was the ongoing problem of how she’d make things right, and either save Draco, Narcissa, and Alana, or take the Dark Mark and lose her new freedom.

The group had exited the train and the magical barrier upon arrival and dispersed. Luna had happily gone to meet her father, Neville had found his Gran in the crowd, and Su had bade them farewell as she skipped over to her mother, who was waiting with open arms, though she looked different, as though disguised. The rest of them remained together, and were greeted by an unexpected crowd.

There was Alastor Moody, looking quite as sinister with his bowler hat pulled low over his magical eye as he would have done without it, his gnarled hands clutching a long staff, his body wrapped in a voluminous travelling cloak. Tonks stood just behind him, her bright bubble‐gum‐pink hair gleaming in the sunlight filtering through the dirty glass of the station ceiling, wearing heavily patched jeans and a bright purple T‐shirt bearing the legend The Weird Sisters. Next to Tonks was Lupin, his face pale, his hair greying, a long and threadbare overcoat covering a shabby jumper and trousers. At the front of the group stood Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, dressed in their Muggle best, and Fred and George, who were both wearing brand‐new jackets in some lurid green, scaly material. A great black dog was closest to them, and it bounded closer when it saw them.

“Hi, Snuffles,” Kit said with a small giggle. She supposed it was not yet completely safe for Sirius to be seen out in public.

“Ron, Ginny!” called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying forwards and hugging her children tightly “Oh, Harry, Kit, Hermione… and Blaise! I remember you!”

“Hi, Mrs. Weasley,” Blaise said sheepishly. He then looked behind them and looked at Kit as if to say ‘be right back’ before darting away. 

“What are these?” Ron asked loudly when he approached the twins, pointing at their jackets. 

“Finest dragonskin, little bro,” said Fred, giving his zip a little tweak. “Business is booming and we thought weʹd treat ourselves.”

“Hello, all,” said Lupin, as Mrs. Weasley let go of Harry and turned to greet Hermione and Kit. The Ravenclaw smiled as the woman engulfed her in a hug, but tried to keep her emotions to a minimum when she felt the nagging reminder that her own mother would never hold her this way. 

Kit then felt a nudge, and looked up to see none other than Harriet Zabini, dressed in a very beautiful blouse and pants, her elegant hair styled into a perfect bun. “Hello, Kit,” she said gently. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been here to pick my son up.”

“Aunt Harriet,” said Kit with a grin, hugging Blaise’s mother. “Wow, what’s the occasion?”

Harriet smirked as Blaise’s cheeks turned red. “Oh, well… he told me there was a special girl he wanted me to meet.”

They gazed back together toward where Hermione had gone to hug her parents. Blaise offered his mother his arm before escorting her in their direction. Kit felt a nudge and turned to see the black dog urging her to go toward Moody, who was not exactly receiving the warmest of greetings.

“Kit,” he greeted, nodding so that his bowler hat nearly fell off. “Good to see you.”

She didn’t say anything in response. Without asking for his approval, she pulled him into a hug, which most certainly caught the Auror off guard, but he didn’t push her away.

And at the end of the day, when the Order members had carried out a rather funny verbal threat against Harry’s terrible guardians, the Dursleys, Kit was taken to her new home, where she was settled very nicely into a room quite a bit nicer than the one she’d previously had, though that was mostly because there were posters everywhere (courtesy of Sirius). She’d fallen asleep feeling better than she had in awhile, though she felt worried about what was to come. 

If she lost Draco, she’d never forgive herself.


	61. Chapter 61

_August 3rd, 1996_

**The day of Andrea’s wedding, Kit had broken her ankle.**

It was her fault, entirely. She’d neglected practicing to walk in the heels she’d been given as part of her bridesmaid dress, an elegant sky colored frock that fit her figure nicely. But it was longer than expected, and Andrea had wanted uniformity, therefore she’d asked Kit to wear some shoes that’d keep the dress from dragging. Unfortunately, Kit had tossed the shoes far under her bed so that she wouldn’t damage them, and had pushed off practicing until it was far too late.

“I’m going to look fucking ridiculous,” Kit had said when she’d nearly knocked Sirius down on her way to the kitchen. “I can’t— _ouch_!”

Sirius didn’t catch her before she slipped, and a loud crack made her let out a scream through gritted teeth. Resisting the urge to laugh at her, he examined her ankle and huffed. “Broken. Just your ruddy luck, hmm?”

“Oh, piss off, don’t rub it in,” she moaned, her face flushed from the pain. “Ow— ow— don’t _do_ that!”

“I have to set it somehow,” said Sirius, trying to put it in place before waving his wand over it. “It’ll feel like a sprain all day, but at least it’ll heal. Don’t walk on it for a bit.”

“The wedding is in five hours! I can’t just sit here!”

“Well, Hermione will arrive shortly for you both to get ready, so don’t be too concerned.”

The wedding had happened near the beginning of July. Kit hadn’t had much time to grieve before she was forced to put on a happy face. It was alright, granted that she was indeed quite happy to see Andrea after so long, but the lingering feeling of pain was not easily going to go away. At least, Hermione had been invited to the wedding since Harriet had taken such an immediate liking to her, which meant Kit had quite a bit of fun. It had been a perfectly calm ceremony, just family and a few friends. Nehemiah Johnson, the American MACUSA representative that Andrea had wed, was a perfectly nice and rather funny man only a few years older than her. He was very intelligent and from what it seemed like, very kind. He was the eldest of five, with the youngest four being a very rambunctious group of quadruplets aged thirteen who went to Ilvermorny. It made sense to Kit why Andrea had preferred for her and Blaise to be the ringbearers instead. 

The ceremony had been very heartwarming. Blaise and Hermione had walked out first, and had waited on opposite ends of the altar for Kit and one of Nehemiah’s friends, a tall and sharp-nosed male named Fitz who didn’t speak much. Fitz had been in charge of holding the utensils for the minister, while Hermione had held Andrea’s bouquet off to the side after she was escorted down the aisle by a very teary-eyed Harriet. When the time had come, Blaise and Kit had given the couple their rings, and they’d been wed.

The after party was excellent. There was some very interesting and rather delicious finger food choices that had Hermione and Kit shamelessly going back for more. She’d watched Blaise and Hermione dance for the majority of the time, her ankle prohibiting her from moving too much. It hadn’t been bad, though, she had been accompanied for a brief moment by the Johnson quadruplets, who were comical in the sense they had absolutely no filter. They were a matched set of fraternal twin girls and identical boys, with _quite_ a lot to say. 

After the wedding, Kit’s summer had been fairly uneventful, but anything other than boring.

She had given herself time to wallow in sadness, which was aided in the fact that aside from Sirius, the only consistent visitor was Harry, who very much understood Kit and didn't make her feel obligated to heal faster. Dumbledore had asked the Order to wean themselves off of using Grimmauld Place as a constant meeting location, since they were concerned that Bellatrix Lestrange could find a way to gain access to it, through Kenneth Thompson’s help, of course. 

Whenever she was home, she had the freedom to exchange letters with her friends on any given day. She found herself communicating often with Blaise, who’d finally met his mother’s boyfriend. He mentioned that he rather liked him, but admitted he was worried about getting attached. He’d never had a consistent father figure in his life (this was the seventh man that’d courted his mother, though he’d lasted much longer and was much kinder), and he feared forging a relationship would be unwise, given the volatile nature of his mother’s affairs. As he put it, “I just worry that I’ll start getting along really well with him and he’ll either die, like my dad did, or leave, like so many of the others.” Kit wished that there were more she could do to ease his worries.

Most days, Kit would find herself going out and about (well hidden and discreetly, of course) to meet Alastor in order to get her training. He was getting better with disguises for his magical eye when they were around Muggles. Although Kit could not actually perform magic due to her age restrictions, she was learning quite a bit hands-on when it came to hexes, jinxes, curses, and especially the Patronus communication that the Order used. Additionally, on days they weren’t doing exercises, Alastor was letting her see his progress on the case of Alana’s mind control.

“Look here at Healer Smethwyck’s notes,” said Alastor, pointing at several scribbles of the parchment. “He and his trainee, Augustus Pye, conversed with a Muggle brain doctor.”

“A neurologist?” asked Kit, glancing up. 

Alastor rolled his non-magical eye. “Whatever it’s called. Doesn’t matter. They’ve been studying your mother’s brain after her autopsy, and they’ve got a pretty good idea of how the curse was implemented. Your father studied the human brain and pinpointed one area in the frontal cortex. He fabricated this variation of the spell and made it so your mother’s brain would not be able to operate any free will mechanisms…. Whatever those are— I’m no Healer and I don’t really intend to understand them because the main point is, we now know exactly how to counteract this form of the curse. Which means we can try and use it against Alana to weaken her curse’s control on her, which should give us a chance to snap her out of her trance properly.”

Kit peered over the notes herself. “Alright, so we just need to fixate on how my sister’s curse is different. Says here… the curse damaged areas of the brain to inhibit development. Meaning my father made sure my mother couldn’t fight against it— her brain wouldn’t be able to find a way around it, and had to sit and let it happen, unable to defend itself. That’s why she could only be lucid after it wore off due to time or unless she was triggered to think of something so emotional, it overloaded her with stimulation to break past it. It was slowly killing her either way, inhibiting her brain from changing in any essential way.”

“We need to find something— anything, that could explain how Alana’s was done,” said Alastor. “There is a distinct difference in how Kenneth applied it, we just have to find out what he did. Whatever it was, it was a one time thing, and it’s held for a very long time and made Alana thoroughly believe that this is who she is now.”

Kit furrowed her eyebrows in concentration. “I have an idea… but I’d need to do a lot of research to form a basis. I don’t know enough about creating spells but if I get you the research to support my theory… d’you think your Healers can check me on it?”

“Definitely,” said Alastor, his magical eye whizzing about the paper as if trying to figure out what her theory was. “Just make sure to keep encoding the letters. If this type of conversation goes into the wrong ears— or hands, if it’s via a letter— then they’ll know we’re onto them and I fear Kenneth might think to kill your sister. She’s a weapon that can be used against them— she knows too much.”

The one thing that she was most pleased to learn was Occlumency. She had asked for him to teach her in their second week, and she had picked up on it quickly (though that was probably because she didn’t have a terrible connection with Lord Voldemort). At least, it was nice for Kit to know that she'd likely be able to resist Veritaserum if anyone tried to snuff her with it again.

The day O.W.L. results arrived, Harry had actually gone to stay with the Weasleys at the Burrow, so Kit was alone with Sirius to see her grades and whether or not she’d done enough to be a Healer.

“Would you look at that?” called Sirius from downstairs. “There’s an owl here for you, Kit!”

She’d bolted down the stairs as fast as she dared, careful not to trip and ruffle the curtain that kept Walburga Black from screaming her head off about how much of a blood traitor the two of them were. 

“Here!” said Sirius happily when she got there, handing her the letter. She tore it open, holding her breath in anticipation.

**Ordinary Wizarding Level Results**

_Katherine Cordelia Thompson has achieved:_

Ancient Runes: O

Arithmancy: O

Astronomy: O

Care of Magical Creatures: O

Charms: O

Defense Against the Dark Arts: E

Herbology: O

History of Magic: A

Muggle Studies: E

Potions: O

Transfiguration: O

“SIRIUS!” Kit screamed, turning the letter to face him. “I PASSED EVERYTHING!”

He had whooped so loudly that it didn’t matter whether Kit had ruffled the curtain again— Walburga Black was soon screeching at the top of her lungs, snarling for them to get out of her house. He’d quieted her down minutes later, but Kit had been too pleased to listen to anything she had to say. Eight Outstandings! Two Exceeds Expectations! And after all, she had managed to pass History of Magic.

Thinking of her scores, she sought to write to Draco. It was because of him she’d received an A instead of a P, D, or T. She’d ran to her room and written a very lengthy letter of thanks to the Slytherin, including several questions of inquiry regarding whether he was doing alright. She hadn’t yet heard from him, and she was worried.

They went to dinner at the Burrow, where Mrs. Weasley claimed they were celebrating the excellent scores that they’d all received. As expected, Hermione had received an Outstanding in every class except Defense (it seemed Harry was the only one with an O in that). Ron and Harry had passed everything except History and Divination (though they both laughed about it and claimed they hadn’t expected anything less). Harry did seem rather saddened, though, and it was with a heavy heart that Ginny whispered to Kit that Harry had received only an E in Potions, meaning his dream of becoming an Auror was shattered. Snape would not accept anyone with less than an O into his N.E.W.T. class.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Kit said sadly in a moment where Sirius and Lupin were speaking very loudly to Mr. Weasley about something in the Ministry. Harry had winced, but shrugged afterward.

“Well, there’s always other careers, you know,” he said. “I can still do loads of other things… say, what classes are you even taking next term? Surely you’re not going to keep all of them like Hermione probably will.”

Kit smiled. “No, definitely not. I have to keep the five core classes, of course… definitely dropping History of Magic and Astronomy… Muggle Studies… Arithmancy… hmm, I think I only want to keep doing Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures aside from the first five.”

“You’ll have a pal in Runes, at least,” said Harry with a grin. “No way Hermione will drop that. Have you heard from Su? Ron was wondering.”

“Not much… I got a very short letter a week ago stating she hasn’t got much time to write. Her and her family are in another country right now trying to enjoy life while they can. Her mother’s paranoid now that Travers is out and about… she’s been keeping Su confined inside especially after what happened at the Ministry. It terrified her to find out that Su had to fight Travers head on. I reckon her mother’s trying to keep her occupied so she’s not too involved with all of us…”

“Damn… but I don’t blame her mum. I’d be worried, too. Su shouldn’t have gone— she got pretty beat up.”

The brunette shrugged. “Well, we couldn’t have stopped her from going. She doesn’t regret it. She’s just really uncertain… a lot of people are. You should have seen Andrea’s wedding— everyone was kind of subconsciously keeping an eye on Hermione. The only Muggle-born there. I don’t think she noticed, though, she was dancing with Blaise for quite a long time. It was a very private thing… times like these call for selectivity and the utmost care.”

“I noticed that when I arrived, early this morning,” said Harry. “Mr. and Mrs. Weasley have questions they ask each other when he comes from work, to make sure it’s him and not a Death Eater in disguise.”

“Alastor told me about that. I have to do it every time I meet him. S’always really random stuff that sometimes I worry _I_ don’t even know the answer to. But we haven’t got another option, really, it’s either be careful or lose our heads.”

Harry pursed his lips. “Dumbledore and I went to visit this man— Horace Slughorn. I think he’s returning to be a Professor at Hogwarts this term. Not that that’s important— I saw Dumbledore’s hand. It’s all… blackened and shriveled and dying. You know more about curses than I do. Could that be it?”

“Probably,” said Kit gravely. “He’s likely been looking into some rather dark stuff now that times are like this…”

By the end of July arrived, Kit’s head was filled with theories and ideas of what the Order of the Phoenix was involved in these days, as well as what she could possibly do to save her sister. It occupied most of her waking moments, and for awhile, she’d forgotten she’d sent Draco a letter, until it arrived back to her, unopened and unanswered. 

“He didn’t even have the guts to read it?” said Hermione in a hushed voice after they’d had tea for Harry’s birthday celebration. “That’s quite rude.”

“After you two’ve been sucking face so much?” said Ginny, bewildered at the revelation. “Any idea why he’s ignoring you?”

Kit knew exactly why. Draco had no intention of letting Kit get close to him if she was trying to be foolish and get involved with Death Eater business. Of course, she hadn’t said anything to Sirius or Alastor about it— they'd be understandably cross with her if they knew how heavily she’d considered it. They were the closest things Kit had ever had to a real father, and she already knew the look of disappointment on both their faces from less severe things she’d said and done. She didn’t want to know how they’d reprimand her if they knew she was considering becoming a Death Eater for a boy.

“No idea,” said Kit calmly. No sense in worrying Hermione and Ginny with the truth. They had enough on their plates. They were sharing a room with Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons champion, since she seemed to be dating the eldest Weasley brother, Bill. As it turned out, for some reason, Mrs. Weasley didn’t like Fleur. Kit supposed that a mother just wanted what was best for her children, and Fleur was still a stranger to her. It just irked her how Mrs. Weasley wasn’t bothering to get to know her before being very cold with her. 

That weekend, Kit had been scheduled to go with the Weasleys to Diagon Alley to get the books on her supplies list. Bill Weasley had been kind enough to extract some money from the Thompson and Potter vaults for her and Harry to use (though Kit wondered why it had been so easy for him to get her family’s money). 

“Maybe they just don’t give a damn whether you use it or not,” mused Ron while they had breakfast. “I mean, your father has to know that the only thing you use it for is school. No sense blocking you from it— you still need an education, whether he wants to kill you or not.”

“Ronald Weasley!” said Mrs. Weasley sharply when she heard him, making Harry and Ginny choke on their cereal when he flinched. “Don’t joke like that! Utterly disrespectful! I’m sorry, Kit, dear, don’t listen to him.”

“It’s alright, Mrs. Weasley, comedy helps me cope,” said Kit, smirking over at Ron, who seemed worried his mother might whack him with a spatula.

“Blimey, can’t even make a joke around here anymore,” said Ron in a whisper when she was gone. “I tried to be funny the other day to ease some tension and she got mad…”

“Mum’s just all addled with Phlegm’s presence,” said Ginny wisely.

“Don’t call her that, Ginny,” said Harry very seriously, in a proper imitation of Mrs. Weasley. Ginny laughed, and Kit couldn’t help but notice how often Harry and Ginny were interacting lately. She’d always noticed how well they got along— Harry had never once been judgmental of any embarrassing things Ginny had done. For someone like Ginny, who’d needed to secretly learn to play Quidditch amidst rambunctious brothers who she always took the mickey from, Harry was a consistent figure that she’d never quite been able to get over her crush on. Kit had never considered just how well the two meshed together, and the observation made her smile.

“What’s got you looking so pleased?” asked Ron when he noticed it. 

Kit quickly shook her head, lying smoothly to cover up her fascination with Harry and Ginny’s relationship. “Oh, nothing, I was just thinking about er— Quidditch. Harry and I are both Captains now and we’ll have some very intense moments coming along. Can’t wait to see your faces when Ravenclaw turns around and beats you.”

“No way!” said Ginny. “Katie and I intend to be Chasers, and with Harry seeking, you’ll have no chance!”

“Su’s going to join me as Chaser, and she’s rather good,” pointed out Kit. “Cho’s not bad either, she just has quite a temper when it comes to our pal Potter here.”

Ginny wolf whistled and nudged Harry under the table, making him roll his eyes playfully.

When they finished, they found a very spacious Ministry of Magic car waiting to take them to Diagon Alley. Kit had never ridden in them before, but they proved to be very comfortable. 

“It’s good Dad can get us these again,” said Ron appreciatively, stretching luxuriously as the car moved smoothly away from the Burrow, Bill and Fleur waving from the kitchen window. He, Harry, Hermione, Kit, and Ginny were all sitting in the wide, roomy backseat.

“Don’t get used to it, it’s only because of Harry,” said Mr. Weasley over his shoulder. He and Mrs. Weasley were in front with the Ministry driver; the front passenger seat had obligingly stretched into what resembled a two-seater sofa. “He’s been given top-grade security status. And we’ll be joining up with additional security at the Leaky Cauldron too.”

Harry shrugged when the others turned to look at him. He, of course, could probably care less whether they placed this much emphasis on him or not. But Kit supposed that with the new Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, things were just meant to be different. 

“Here you are, then,” said the driver, a surprisingly short while later, speaking for the first time as he slowed in Charing Cross Road and stopped outside the Leaky Cauldron. “I’m to wait for you, any idea how long you’ll be?”

“A couple of hours, I expect,” said Mr. Weasley. “Ah, good, he’s here!”

Outside the inn, rather than the hoard of Aurors the teens had been expecting, stood the gigantic, black-bearded form of Rubeus Hagrid, wearing a long beaverskin coat, beaming at the sight of Harry’s face and oblivious to the startled stares of passing Muggles.

“Harry!” he boomed, sweeping Harry into a bone-crushing hug the moment Harry had stepped out of the car. 

Harry massaged his ribs when he was released. “We didn’t know ‘security’ meant you!”

“I know, jus’ like old times, innit? See, the Ministry wanted ter send a bunch o’ Aurors, but Dumbledore said I’d do,” said Hagrid proudly, throwing out his chest and tucking his thumbs into his pockets. “Lets get goin’ then...after yeh, Molly, Arthur...”

Kit hadn’t been expecting the Leaky Cauldron to look so empty. Only Tom the landlord, wizened and toothless, remained of the old crowd. He looked up hopefully as they entered, but before he could speak, Hagrid said importantly, “Jus’ passin’ through today, Tom, sure yeh understand, Hogwarts business, yeh know.”

Tom nodded gloomily and returned to wiping glasses; Kit, Harry, Hermione, Hagrid, and the Weasleys walked through the bar and out into the chilly little courtyard at the back where the dustbins stood. Hagrid raised his pink umbrella and rapped a certain brick in the wall, which opened at once to form an archway onto a winding cobbled street. They stepped through the entrance and paused, looking around.

Diagon Alley had changed. The colorful, glittering window displays of spellbooks, potion ingredients, and cauldrons were lost to view, hidden behind the large Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted over them. Most of these somber purple posters carried blown-up versions of the security advice on the Ministry pamphlets that had been sent out over the summer, but others bore moving black-and-white photographs of Death Eaters known to be on the loose. Bellatrix Lestrange was sneering from the front of the nearest apothecary, and not far beside her, was the terrible picture of Alana that Kit hated to come across. A few windows were boarded up, including those of Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor. On the other hand, a number of shabby-looking stalls had sprung up along the street. The nearest one, which had been erected outside Flourish and Blotts, under a striped, stained awning, had a cardboard sign pinned to its front to sell amulets. A seedy-looking little wizard was rattling armfuls of silver symbols on chains at passersby.

“One for your little girl, madam?” he called at Mrs. Weasley as they passed, leering at Ginny. “Protect her pretty neck?”

“If I were on duty...” said Mr. Weasley, glaring angrily at the amulet seller.

“Yes, but don’t go arresting anyone now, dear, we’re in a hurry,” said Mrs. Weasley, nervously consulting a list. “I think we’d better do Madam Malkin’s first, Hermione and Kit want new dress robes, and Ron’s showing much too much ankle in his school robes, and you must need new ones too, Harry, you’ve grown so much...come on, everyone...”

“I knew you two were going to be tall,” mused Kit when she actually stopped to notice how much Harry and Ron had grown, “but honestly, I didn’t expect this.” 

Ron was the tallest of her friend group, and probably his whole family, at that rate, standing at around 6’4 She and Hermione were resting comfortably at 5’6, and Ginny was still rather small at 5’3. Harry had shot up, and it seemed he was going to stay comfortably at 6’0. Kit hadn’t seen Draco, but if he had grown too, then he and Blaise would likely both be resting at 6’2.

“Molly, it doesn’t make sense for all of us to go to Madam Malkin’s,” said Mr. Weasley. “Why don’t those three go with Hagrid, and we can go to Flourish and Blotts and get everyone’s school-books?”

“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Weasley anxiously, clearly torn between a desire to finish the shopping quickly and the wish to stick together in a pack. “Hagrid, do you think —?”

“Don’t fret, they’ll be fine with me, Molly,” said Hagrid soothingly, waving an airy hand the size of a dustbin lid. Mrs. Weasley did not look entirely convinced, but allowed the separation, scurrying off toward Flourish and Blotts with her husband and Ginny while Harry, Ron, Hermione, Kit, and Hagrid set off for Madam Malkin’s.

“Migh’ be a bit of a squeeze in there with all of us,” said Hagrid, stopping outside Madam Malkin’s and bending down to peer through the window once they arrived. “I’ll stand guard outside, all right?”

The others entered the little shop together. It appeared, at first glance, to be empty, but no sooner had the door swung shut behind them than they heard a familiar voice issuing from behind a rack of dress robes in spangled green and blue.

“...not a child, in case you haven’t noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone.”

The voice of Madam Malkin, the owner, said in response, “Now, dear, your mother’s quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore, it’s nothing to do with being a child...”

“Watch where you’re sticking that pin, will you!” Draco snapped, coming out from behind the rack wearing a handsome set of dark green robes that glittered with pins around the hem and the edges of the sleeves. He strode to the mirror and examined himself, but then turned and saw the group. His face went pink, and he awkwardly stepped back. “Er— these robes are fine— no more adjusting needed— Mother, we should go—”

“Seriously?” said Kit in a hard voice, glaring back at Draco. “Are you going to pretend I’m not here?”

And from the look on his face, it seemed that was what he'd been planning to do.


	62. Chapter 62

**There was a dreadful moment when the others thought that Kit might pounce on Draco and punch him.**

At last, it was Narcissa who spoke to diffuse the tension. “Hello, Kit,” she said gently, ignoring those with her. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been alright, godmother,” she said simply. But her focus was not on Narcissa at all. The entire time, she was staring at Draco, who was desperately trying to get away from Madam Malkin, who was trying to get the pins out of his robes before he started tearing it off.

“Now, really, Mr. Malfoy, be patient!” the woman said, scurrying around trying to keep him from sending pins soaring through the air.

“Get them off, quickly!” said Draco impatiently, not even looking at Kit anymore.

“Oh please, don’t be such a prat to her, she’s trying to help you,” said Kit sharply. Narcissa quite awkwardly turned to help her son, but by then, he’d moved far too much, and when Madam Malkin was attempting to fix the left sleeve, he let out a bellow of discomfort.

“Ouch!” he snapped, slapping her hand away. “Leave it— I’ll get it off myself! On second thought, Mother, I don’t want these anymore— let’s get out of here!”

Madam Malkin looked terribly ashamed when he yanked the robes over his head and tossed them on the floor, angrily stomping on it before adjusting his clothes and glancing at Narcissa. “Mother, come on,” he said, offering her his arm and strolling out without so much as a sideways look in Kit’s direction.

The older woman began to fit them soon after, but Kit was hardly paying attention. She felt angry, confused, and overall, hurt. She knew why he was doing it, but it didn’t stop her from being incredibly mad that it was happening in the first place. She fought back tears of frustration brimming in her eyes, and ignored the concerned stares that her friends were shooting her way. 

“Got ev’rything?” asked Hagrid brightly when they reappeared at his side.

“Just about,” said Harry, casting Kit a worried look. “Did you see the Malfoys?”

“Yeah,” said Hagrid, unconcerned. “Bu they wouldn’ dare make trouble in the middle o’ Diagon Alley, Harry. Don’ worry about them.” From behind Hagrid, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley appeared with Ginny, all clutching heavy packages of books. 

“Everyone all right?” said Mrs. Weasley. “Got your robes? Right then, we can pop in at the Apothecary and Eeylops on the way to Fred and George’s...stick close, now...”

Hermione and Kit occupied themselves with getting ingredients at the Apothecary, while Ron and Harry bought large boxes of owl nuts for Hedwig and Pigwidgeon at Eeylops Owl Emporium. Then, with Mrs. Weasley checking her watch every minute or so, they headed farther along the street in search of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, the joke shop run by Fred and George.

“We really haven’t got too long,” Mrs. Weasley said. “So we’ll just have a quick look around and then back to the car. We must be close, that’s number ninety-two...ninety-four...”

“Whoa,” said Ron, stopping in his tracks.

Set against the dull, poster-muffled shop Fronts around them, Fred and Georges windows hit the eye like a firework display. Casual passersby were looking back over their shoulders at the windows, and a few rather stunned-looking people had actually come to a halt, transfixed. The left-hand window was dazzlingly full of an assortment of goods that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced, and shrieked; Kit’s eyes began to water just looking at it, which wasn’t helping the fact that she still was trying not to cry. The right-hand window was covered with a gigantic poster, purple like those of the Ministry, but emblazoned with flashing yellow letters:

_WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT YOU-KNOW-WHO? YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT U-NO-POO — THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION THAT’S GRIPPING THE NATION!_

Harry and Kit started to laugh, but Mrs. Weasley let out a weak moan of fear, gazing, dumbfounded, at the poster. Her lips moved silently, mouthing the name ‘U-No- Poo.’

“They’ll be murdered in their beds!” she whispered.

“No they won’t!” said Ron, who was also laughing. “This is brilliant!”

He and Harry led the way into the shop, Hermione and Kit following closely behind. It was packed with customers— there was no way they could get near the shelves. Boxes were piled up to the ceiling: Here were the Skiving Snackboxes that the twins had perfected during their last, unfinished year at Hogwarts; the Nosebleed Nougat was most popular, with only one battered box left on the shelf. There were bins full of trick wands, the cheapest merely turning into rubber chickens or pairs of briefs when waved, the most expensive beating the unwary user around the head and neck, and boxes of quills, which came in Self-Inking, Spell-Checking, and Smart-Answer varieties. A space cleared in the crowd, where a gaggle of delighted ten- year-olds was watching a tiny little wooden man slowly ascending the steps to a real set of gallows, both perched on a box that read: _Reusable hangman - spell it or he’ll swing!_

“‘Patented Daydream Charms...’” Hermione read off as she and Kit managed to squeeze through to a large display near the counter, on the back of a box bearing a highly colored picture of a handsome youth and a swooning girl who were standing on the deck of a pirate ship. “‘One simple incantation and you will enter a top-quality, highly realistic, thirty-minute daydream, easy to fit into the average school lesson and virtually undetectable— side effects include vacant expression and minor drooling. Not for sale to under-sixteens.’” She paused and looked up at Kit. “You know, that really is extraordinary magic!”

“For that, Hermione,” said a voice behind the two girls, “you can have one for free.”

A beaming Fred stood before them, wearing a set of magenta robes that clashed magnificently with his flaming hair. “How are you, Kit?” They shook hands. “And what’s happened to your eye, Hermione?” He gazed at the bruise that Hermione had had for quite a few days already. 

“Your punching telescope,” she said ruefully.

“Oh blimey, I forgot about those,” said Fred. “Here —” He pulled a tub out of his pocket and handed it to her; she unscrewed it gingerly to reveal a thick yellow paste.

“Just dab it on, that bruise’ll be gone within the hour,” said Fred. “We had to find a decent bruise remover. We’re testing most of our products on ourselves.”

Hermione looked nervous. “It is safe, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Course it is,” said Fred bracingly. “Come on, Harry, I’ll give you a tour…” he reached his arm toward where Harry was, behind the girls. 

Kit, meanwhile, helped Hermione get the paste on all the bruised parts of her eye. Ginny came closer and observed the Patented Daydream Charms herself. “Blimey, these sound amazing…” 

“I’d certainly like to have a few of those so that I can forget Draco’s bullshit,” Kit muttered.

“What happened?” asked Ginny.

“He acted as though I wasn’t right in front of him at Madam Malkin’s! It was so embarrassing— he looked right through me.”

Ginny growled. “That prat. You should punch his face in with a Quaffle.” 

“I’m considering it,” sighed Kit. “I wish he’d acknowledge I was there. But not even that…”

The twins returned from their tour with Harry and came upon the girls. “Haven’t you found our special WonderWitch products yet?” asked Fred. “Follow me, ladies...” Near the window was an array of violently pink products around which a cluster of excited girls was giggling enthusiastically. The trio hung back, looking wary.

“There you go,” said Fred proudly. “Best range of love potions you’ll find anywhere.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Do they work?” she asked.

“Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question...”

“...and the attractiveness of the girl,” said George, reappearing suddenly at their side. “But we’re not selling them to our sister,” he added, becoming suddenly stern, “not when she’s already got about five boys on the go from what we’ve...”

“Whatever you’ve heard from Ron is a big fat lie,” said Ginny calmly, leaning forward to take a small pink pot off the shelf. “What’s this?”

“Guaranteed ten-second pimple vanisher,” said Fred. “Excellent on everything from boils to blackheads, but don’t change the subject. Are you or are you not currently going out with a boy called Dean Thomas?”

“Yes, I am,” said Ginny. “And last time I looked, he was definitely one boy, not five. What are those?” She was pointing at a number of round balls of fluff in shades of pink and purple, all rolling around the bottom of a cage and emitting high-pitched squeaks.

“Pygmy Puffs,” said George. “Miniature puffskeins, we can’t breed them fast enough. So what about Michael Corner?”

“I dumped him, he was a bad loser,” said Ginny, putting a finger through the bars of the cage and watching the Pygmy Puffs crowd around it. “They’re really cute!”

“They’re fairly cuddly, yes,” conceded Fred. “But you’re moving through boyfriends a bit fast, aren’t you?”

Ginny turned to look at him, her hands on her hips. There was such a Mrs. Weasley-ish glare on her face that Kit was surprised Fred didn’t recoil. “It’s none of your business. And I’ll thank you” she added angrily to Ron, who had just appeared at George’s elbow, laden with merchandise, “not to tell tales about me to these two!”

“That’s three Galleons, nine Sickles, and a Knut,” said Fred, examining the many boxes in Ron’s arms. “Cough up.”

“I’m your brother!”

“And that’s our stuff you’re nicking. Three Galleons, nine Sickles. I’ll knock off the Knut.”

“But I haven’t got three Galleons, nine Sickles!”

“You’d better put it back then, and mind you put it on the right shelves.”

Ron dropped several boxes, swore, and made a rude hand gesture at Fred that was unfortunately spotted by Mrs. Weasley, who had chosen that moment to appear. “If I see you do that again I’ll jinx your fingers together,” she said sharply.

“Mum, can I have a Pygmy Puff?” said Ginny at once.

“A what?” said Mrs. Weasley warily.

“Look, they’re so sweet...”

Mrs. Weasley moved aside to look at the Pygmy Puffs, and Kit moved back out of the way, turning to look out the window and catching a glimpse of Draco. Harry had seen him too, and she felt him come up beside her, watching as Draco passed, Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, glanced over his shoulder, and he moved beyond the scope of the window and they lost sight of him.

“Wonder where his mummy is?” said Harry, frowning. “What business has he got giving her the slip _and_ ignoring you, Kit?”

“I dunno,” said Kit. “But it’s whatever— let him do what he pleases. If he wants to play that game, let him piss off, for all I care...:”

But Harry, it seemed had made up his mind. “Get under here, quick,” he said, pulling his Invisibility Cloak out of his bag.

“Oh— I don’t know, Harry,” said Hermione, looking uncertainly toward Mrs. Weasley. “Besides, Kit just wants to let him be…”

“Come on,” said Ron, urging the two. “Let’s just take a peek.”

Albeit hesitantly, Hermione and Kit ducked under the cloak with Harry and Ron. Nobody noticed them vanish; they were all too interested in Fred and George’s products. The four squeezed their way out of the door as quickly as they could, but by the time they gained the street, Malfoy had disappeared just as successfully as they had.

“He was going in that direction,” murmured Harry as quietly as possible, so that the humming Hagrid would not hear them. “C’mon.”

They scurried along, peering left and right, through shop windows and doors, until Hermione pointed ahead. “That’s him, isn’t it?” she whispered. “Turning left?”

“Big surprise,” said Ron, since Draco had just turned into Knockturn Alley. Kit felt her heart hammer into her chest as they followed, speeding up. It was just dawning on her that it was risky for the Gryffindor trio to be here, witnessing this. She didn’t think they should be involved in such things— they could get hurt.

Draco had gone into Borgin and Burke’s, which made Kit’s heart rate speed up even more. From where they were crouched, the Slytherin’s blonde head was barely visible over a large black cabinet inside the shop. They couldn’t hear him, but he was talking animatedly with his hands, looking distressed, and like whatever matter he had presented, was very urgent. Across from him stood the proprietor of the shop, Mr. Borgin, an oily-haired man, who wore an expression of mingled resentment and fear. 

“If only we could hear what they’re saying!” said Hermione.

“We can!” said Ron excitedly. “Hang on, damn.” He dropped a couple more of the boxes he was still clutching as he fumbled with the largest. “Extendable Ears, look!”

“Fantastic!” said Hermione, as Ron unraveled the long, flesh-colored strings and began to feed them toward the bottom of the door. “Oh, I hope the door isn’t Imperturbable...”

“No!” said Ron gleefully. “Listen!”

They put their heads together and listened intently to the ends of the strings, through which Draco’s voice could be heard loud and clear, as though a radio had been turned on.

“...you know how to fix it?”

“Possibly,” said Borgin, in a tone that suggested he was unwilling to commit himself. “I’ll need to see it, though. Why don’t you bring it into the shop?”

“I can’t,” said Draco. “It’s got to stay put. I just need you to tell me how to do it.” 

“Well, without seeing it, I must say it will be a very difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn’t guarantee anything.”

“No?” sneered Draco. “Perhaps this will make you more confident.”

He moved forward toward Borgin, and was blocked from their view by the cabinet. Kit and the others shimmied forward, but they couldn’t see what Draco was doing, just that Borgin was very frightened. With a sinking sensation in her stomach, Kit had a feeling what Draco was showing to him. The Dark Mark— surely he had been branded by now. 

“Tell anyone,” said Draco in a low voice, “and there will be retribution. You know Fenrir Greyback? He’s a family friend. He’ll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you’re giving the problem your full attention.”

“There will be no need for...”

“I’ll decide that. Well, I’d better be off. And don’t forget to keep that one safe, I’ll need it.”

“Perhaps you’d like to take it now?”

“No, of course I wouldn’t, you stupid, little man, how would I look carrying that down the street? Just don’t sell it.”

“Of course not...sir.”

“Not a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my mother, understand?”

“Naturally, naturally,” murmured Borgin, bowing to him.

They leapt back as Draco stepped out of the shop, looking pleased with himself, the bell over the door tinkling loudly as he exited. He passed so close to the four that they felt the cloak flutter around their knees. Inside the shop, Borgin remained frozen; his unctuous smile had vanished; he looked worried.

“What was that about?” whispered Ron, reeling in the Extendable Ears.

“Dunno,” said Harry. “He wants something mended...and he wants to reserve something in there...Could you see what he pointed at when he said ‘that one’?”

“No, he was behind that cabinet...”

“You three stay here,” whispered Hermione, apparently having some sort of plan.

“What are you...?”

But Hermione had already ducked out from under the cloak. She checked her hair in the reflection in the glass, then marched into the shop, setting the bell tinkling again. Ron hastily fed the Extendable Ears back under the door and passed one of the strings to Harry and Kit.

“Hello, horrible morning, isn’t it?” Hermione said brightly to Borgin, who did not answer, but cast her a suspicious look. Humming cheerily, Hermione strolled through the jumble of objects on display. “Is this necklace for sale?” she asked, pausing beside a glass-fronted case.

“If you’ve got one and a half thousand Galleons,” said Mr. Borgin coldly.

“Oh...er...no, I haven’t got quite that much,” said Hermione, walking on. “And...what about this lovely...um...skull?”

“Sixteen Galleons.”

“So it’s for sale, then? It isn’t being...kept for anyone?”

Mr. Borgin squinted at her. Kit had the nasty feeling he knew exactly what Hermione was up to, and she wished Hermione had said something before barging in. Thankfully, the brunette sensed his suspicion and threw caution to the winds, but not in the way that she would have thought to be wise. 

“The thing is, that...er...boy who was in here just now, Draco Malfoy, well, he’s a friend of mine, and I want to get him a birthday present, but if he’s already reserved anything, I obviously don’t want to get him the same thing, so...um...”

Harry, Ron, and Kit shared an absolutely mortified look as Borgin’s face contorted angrily. “Out!” he said sharply. “Get out!”

Hermione did not wait to be asked twice, but hurried to the door with Borgin at her heels. As the bell tinkled again, Borgin slammed the door behind her and put up the closed sign.

“Ah well,” said Ron, throwing the cloak back over Hermione. “Worth a try, but you were a bit obvious...”

“Well, next time you can show me how it’s done, Master of Mystery!” she snapped.

“You didn’t even give us a bloody chance to do anything!” said Kit a bit harshly, feeling riled up. Draco was ignoring her and doing some Death Eater task already, and now, Hermione was acting offended for having tried to gain intel in the lamest way possible. “Don’t you think it might have been smarter for me to go in? Borgin knows my father! One mention of that name and he might’ve told me exactly what Draco was up to! Ugh— this is stupid, nevermind.” 

She got out from under the Cloak the instant they were out of Knockturn Alley and walked quickly back toward Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, where Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Hagrid were looking around— clearly having noticed their absence. Kit was yanked back under the Cloak before she was spotted, and Harry urged them back into the shop, moving quickly behind one of the aisles and tucking the Cloak back into his bag before urging them to get up and exit. 

“Oh, Harry, dear!” cried Mrs. Weasley. “Where were the four of you?”

“Er— we were in the back room, looking at some merchandise,” said Harry smoothly, clearly already having prepared a lie. “Sorry, we should have said something.”

The woman didn’t question it, and instead beckoned them back toward the Leaky Cauldron, where Mr. Weasley was waiting with the Ministry car. They piled back in, now with all their supplies, and returned to the Burrow, where Lupin was waiting for them.

“I’ve come to take Kit back to Grimmauld Place,” said Lupin, ruffling Harry’s hair once they stepped out of the vehicle. 

“Alright, then,” said Mr. Weasley. “Got everything you needed, Kit?”

“Yes, thank you,” she said, though she knew he had noticed how nervous she looked. Ginny handed her the textbooks they’d gotten for her, and she tucked them under her arm with the other things she’d purchased, taking Lupin’s arm and allowing him to apparate the two of them back to Grimmauld Place. They had entered quietly enough that thankfully, Mrs. Black hadn’t gone off screaming at them.

“Kit!” said Sirius cheerfully, coming into the hall from the kitchen, his face covered in a white powdery substance. “Came just in time, the cake is almost ready to eat.”

“Cake?” she inquired quizzically, going to set her things down on one of the couches in the parlor. “What for?”

“Well, you’ll be going back to Hogwarts soon, and I thought you might enjoy a nice surprise treat. Care to stay, Remus?”

Lupin gave him a small smile. “Sure. I’d enjoy a chance to criticize your baking, Padfoot.”

“My cake baking skills are _wonderful_ , thank you, Moony.”

Kit had laughed lightly and gone to retrieve plates and forks for them. When the masterpiece of a loaf had come out of the oven, they had enjoyed it with a glass of milk, each. At first, Kit had not really entered their conversation (since it was mostly a relay of memories that they had from their Hogwarts years). But then, Sirius had turned the attention to her.

“So, Kit, what are your plans for this year?” he said happily. “What’s the wildest thing you plan to do?”

She scrunched her nose up. “I dunno, I think I’m set for a rather boring year. Prefect duties, Quidditch Captaincy, and N.E.W.T. level courses… I’ll probably only have fun when I’m procrastinating, which won’t be a good thing to do this term.”

“Aw, you’ll have loads of time for fun! Think, you have about three less classes this time around, right? Sixth year isn’t that bad.”

Lupin chuckled at this. “That’s coming from someone who only kept the five core classes for N.E.W.T.s. She kept electives, she will be much busier than you were.”

“Hey, all I’m saying is she’ll still have time to let loose with a good snog or two!”

“Sirius, I’m _not_ discussing that with you,” said Kit, blushing. 

“Say, I was going to ask, though— what happened with Draco? Thought you’d owled him so he could come visit, or something. I hope you didn’t feel like you couldn’t ask him. This is your house, now, and you’re allowed to bring over anyone you’d like.”

“It wasn’t that I felt like I couldn’t ask him to come…” she hesitated. “Um… if I were to tell you two something, you promise you won’t tell anyone? It’s sort of personal.”

“What’s the matter?” said Lupin, furrowing his brows in concern. “Is everything alright?”

Kit bit her lip. “Draco and I aren’t really speaking right now. With his father in Azkaban and mine M.I.A… he’s really concerned with my safety. It’s nothing to worry about, I just don’t know how that’s going to go well. I worry he’s going to break it off with me.”

Part of her wanted to tell them about the threats and the prospect of Draco having to become a Death Eater. How she wished there was a way that he could be protected from it. But she knew that it would put Draco and Narcissa in grave danger, because the Death Eaters didn’t want any interference whatsoever. Kit’s direct word would possibly give the Order some reason to target Draco. 

Thus, she worded her statement carefully, making it seem more like her troubles lay in the future of her relationship with the blonde. They could make any assumptions they wanted, but she would in no way seek out putting Draco in the hot seat. If she told them the truth, they’d catch on rather quickly to the fact that she wanted to get involved. At least with these two men knowing, she felt safe in knowing the vaguest details lay with two Order members. 

But this was something she wanted to resolve on her own.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Sirius, though he looked a bit awkward, not knowing how to give the younger girl relationship advice. After all, he’d experienced things very differently being the male in his past relationship with Alana. “Have you er— tried speaking with him?”

“Yes. Hasn’t gone well.”

Lupin clasped his hands together. “Just be mindful of where he is coming from. If he is concerned, remind yourself that your priority is your own safety. I am sure that you both are constantly worried about each other, given the nature of your families. This is a very difficult time for the two of you, granted what has happened, and just remember that if anything, you can hold things off.”

“Yes, exactly,” piped up Sirius. “It can be held off while things get better, if need be. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you. In fact, this exemplifies the fact that he cares a lot.”

Kit gave them both a weak smile. “Thanks,” she said. “I appreciate you both letting me get that out of my system.”

The only problem was, it now had her more determined to help him, even though he was acting like she didn’t exist.

She cared far too much to let him suffer alone.


	63. Chapter 63

**One might think Harry and Kit were losing their minds.**

The Boy-Who-Lived had been incessantly trying to determine what on earth Draco had been doing in Borgin and Burke’s with such ferocity that both Hermione and Ron were casting him weird stares, since neither of them mildly cared what Draco was doing. 

Kit was adamant about keeping the truth concealed for Draco’s sake, but it was becoming increasingly more difficult for her to spout fake information to Harry about Draco in order to dissuade him from his ongoing investigation.

It was like he was part of the Auror’s Office or something, considering how intent he was on figuring the truth out. 

“Yes, it’s all fishy, Harry,” said Hermione with exasperation two days before they were set to return to Hogwarts. “We agree on that. But there could be a lot of explanations. Kit already mentioned that Draco likes to bluff and all that—”

“Maybe he’s broken his Hand of Glory,” chimed in Ron vaguely, as he attempted to straighten his broomstick’s bent tail twigs. “Remember that shriveled-up arm Malfoy had?”

“But what about when he said, ‘don’t forget to keep that one safe?’” asked Harry for the umpteenth time. “That sounded to me like Borgin’s got another one of the broken objects, and Malfoy wants both.”

“Just because they sell dark objects there doesn’t mean that’s the bulk of the store!” lied Kit between her teeth. “My father took me in there several times and they had some perfectly normal magical items, just more pricey! You lot have always wondered how I can get my quills to write for me— they’re charmed more easily because we got them at Borgin and Burke’s!”

This was obviously not true, and someone like Hermione could have easily realized it, but of course, the frizzy haired girl could care less. Currently, she was preparing her trunk, and Kit could see that she kept running her hands over the shoes she’d worn to Andrea’s wedding, since for some reason she thought they might be useful this term and therefore intended to pack them.

“Still, it doesn’t add up,” Harry insisted, directly to Kit since she seemed most intent on arguing about it with him. “His father’s in Azkaban. Don’t you think he’d like revenge?”

“No, he wouldn’t,” said Kit sharply. “He might not be talking to me, but trust me, he isn’t going to do anything to avenge his father. He knows what his father’s done, and after my mother was killed, I don’t think he’s concerned about upholding the stinking Malfoy surname.”

That shut Harry up momentarily. It wasn’t even a lie either. Draco wasn’t getting involved in Death Eater business for Lucius’s sake. He was doing it for Narcissa, out of fear that his mother would be tortured or killed if he didn’t step up. 

Hermione cast them both a look. “Are you both feeling alright? You’ve both been at odds about this since we went to Knockturn Alley.”

“Not my fault that Harry’s insistent on conspiracy theories regarding Draco,” said Kit, crossing her arms. “You’d think I don’t know him at all.”

“But _think_ , Kit!” insisted Harry. “You refuse to tell us why he stopped talking to you. What if— what if he…” he stopped, and his eyes widened. “He’s a Death Eater! He’s replaced his father as a Death Eater.”

There were many reasons why Harry wasn’t a Ravenclaw, one being how insistent he could be on things that had absolutely no basis, such as the whole Sirius ordeal last year before they tore off toward the Ministry. Rather than trying to be logical, Harry had insisted on a rescue mission, and out of some miracle, Sirius wasn’t dead.

But Kit had to admit that he’d pieced everything together rather quickly this time. It was rather impressive how he’d managed to figure it out.

Of course, she had to act as though he was completely wrong, and thankfully for her, Hermione and Ron didn’t even see it as a possibility.

“He’s sixteen, Harry!” said Ron, erupting into laughter. “You think You-Know-Who would let him join? Sure, we know he’s brainy especially in Potions, but by that logic, Kit would have been a Death Eater at ten, or something, if You-Know-Who’s looking for young bright minds or some load of dung like that.”

“It seems very unlikely, Harry,” said Hermione in a repressive sort of voice. “Blaise and Kit have done so much to pull him away from that, he’d never do it. Either way, it’s like Ron said. He’s so young. Voldemort— quit whimpering, Ron— recruits experienced, ruthless adults.”

“Exactly,” agreed Kit, trying to act as though she didn’t believe him at all. “The Dark Lord has enough powerful lieutenants with just my family and the Lestranges. And that’s not considering how many other Death Eaters there are. Alana is the youngest he’s ever recruited, and it’s really only because she’s being mind-controlled. She’s forced to be loyal in a way that no sound person could be— especially not Draco. What even makes you think such a thing?”

“In Madam Malkin’s,” Harry said. “She didn’t touch him, but he jerked his arm away from her when she went to roll up his sleeve. It was his left arm. He’s been branded with the Dark Mark.”

Kit had to jump in, of course, with more lies. She wasn’t sure why she insisted on lying, but she feared that Harry could react rashly if he knew the truth. “Draco and I got into a fight!” she blurted out. “I got mad at him and I fired a spell, and I hit his arm. I really hurt him, and that’s why he hasn’t spoken to me! It’s all my fault but I haven’t been able to admit it. I keep trying to apologize— I left a rather nasty gash. He probably didn’t want to put it on full display when I was there.”

“Oh, Kit,” said Hermione softly, patting her back to console her. “You shouldn’t blame yourself— if he provoked you right after your mother died… well, I probably would have snapped all the same.”

Kit marveled at how easily they were believing her over Harry. Was it really that unfathomable to them that Draco would be turned to a Death Eater? Then again, they didn’t know how deep Draco’s love for his mother ran. He’d do anything to protect her, since she was the only one who’d shown him the most kindness growing up. His father had always been rather rough, even more so when he started beating him. As for Kit, she’d never been particularly close to either parent, since they’d both been the villains in her story before she’d known about her mother. 

“But he showed Borgin something we couldn’t see,” pressed Harry stubbornly. “Something that seriously scared Borgin. It was the Mark, I know it… he was showing Boring who he was dealing with— you saw how seriously Borgin took him.”

“Borgin’s been doing business with Death Eaters forever!” cried Kit. “My father showed him his Mark so many times and he didn’t flinch at it because he was _used_ to it.”

Ron nodded in agreement with Kit. “Yeah, I still don’t reckon You-Know-Who would let him join. He might have had a weapon or something.”

Harry was obviously annoyed that none of them were believing him, and he ended up leaving the room hurriedly.

Ron became serious. “Oi, Kit, then what the hell did Malfoy say to you that provoked you? If he made some sick joke about your mother—”

“He just said something about how it was Harry’s fault,” she lied once again. “He started talking crap, probably thinking that I’d want to blame Harry for it. But I didn’t, and I still don’t. It just ticked me off that instead of comforting me, he was trying to find a scapegoat. Doesn’t matter how much Draco’s changed after everything— his tension with Harry isn’t going to just go away anytime soon.”

“I’m sorry, Kit,” said Hermione gently. “How have you been feeling, after everything? I’m sorry we haven’t really asked.”

“I’ve been a lot better,” she answered honestly. “It helped a lot to have Sirius there for me. And with the training sessions with Alastor… it feels at least like I have the upper hand in figuring out how to free Alana. My mother’s death hurt but with it came the knowledge that will help us get my sister back to us. I know Sirius would like that very much.”

Ron shifted in his seat. “What about Su? Have you heard from her?”

“Nope. Her mum’s still got her all restricted. But she’ll be there at the station, I’m sure of it.”

He’d nodded, though he still looked worried.

The next day, Kit’s birthday had been met with a nicer party than she could have expected.

Mrs. Weasley had baked her a cake, and she’d received gifts that were more thoughtful than anything she’d gotten before.

She’d received one of the signature Weasley sweaters, with a large ‘K’ at the front. It was forest green, her favorite color, though the letter was a silvery blue to represent her Ravenclaw nature. 

Sirius had given her an old pocket mirror that he’d found that belonged to Alana, with her name engraved in gold. It meant more to finally have something that actually belonged to her sister, knowing that the real her was in there somehow.

Alastor, much to her surprise, had dug through the Ministry’s reserve of things and pulled out some jewelry items that’d belonged to Katherine Smith, Alison’s late mother, and her namesake. It was a simple few necklaces and bracelets, but it meant quite a bit, and of course, Alastor had been surprised when Kit pulled him into a hug. 

September 1st dawned upon them after the festivities, and Kit found herself dreading saying goodbye to Sirius.

“Thank you for everything,” she breathed, leaning into him as they embraced, with Remus waiting behind them to take Kit to the station. “It’s helped quite a bit.”

“Of course,” he said, smiling at her. “It was a pleasure to have you. You’re always welcome here, if you want to come for the holidays. This is your home now, and you have free reign in it.”

She’d wished he could have come with her and Remus to the station, but that wasn’t yet a possibility. She’d hugged and thanked Remus all the same as she went through the barrier, looking around for any familiar faces. The Weasleys and Harry weren’t there yet.

“Kit!” She turned and saw Blaise making his way toward her. 

“Hey!” she said happily. “Who brought you? You’re usually much earlier than this, already in the train.”

“My mum’s boyfriend,” he said, smiling. “He’s a really nice bloke, Kit. I still don’t want to get attached but… he’s good for her. Anyway—”

The two were unceremoniously tackled nearly to the floor as Su jumped onto Kit. “I haven’t seen you in forever!” she squealed as she hugged her. 

“Glad to know I was missed,” said Blaise dramatically as Su pulled away.

“I missed you too, Zabini,” she said teasingly as she cupped Kit’s face. “Where’s Ron?”

Kit smirked. “Not here yet, but he will be soon. He asked about you quite a bit.”

“Oh, I feel terrible that I could barely write to all of you!” she moaned. “Mum was so stingy with my cousins and I. Lectured me so often about there being a time and place for getting bold… she’s still all worked up about what happened at the Ministry.”

“Well, you fought Travers head on,” said Kit. “She doesn’t want to lose you.”

“Still, it gave me such a thrill,” she sighed. “That’s why I really, really am going to try out for Quidditch this year! I got a broom and everything. I think… I think that that really helped me realize that I have a lot of potential in high intensity situations. I thought that I wanted to work at the Ministry like my mum used to, but I think it really made me think of becoming an Auror. It was so scary but it… it made me see that I’m good at thinking on the fly.”

“That sounds like a good career choice,” said Kit proudly, pleased that Su was really finding herself after all of this. She had the drive to catch criminals after what happened to her father. “You have all the O.W.L.s you need for it, too!”

Su nodded. “And— and! Ron wants to be an Auror too. He and Harry, of course, but I can work alongside them!”

Kit wiggled her eyebrows. “Speaking of Ron…”

The two girls turned to face where the Weasleys and Harry had just crossed the barrier. Blaise wasted no time in running to greet Hermione, and like a proper gentleman, offering to help with her trunk.

Su took off right after him. It was like she forgot that Ron’s entire family was right there. Either that, or she no longer cared. It seemed she was so much bolder after the adventure they’d had. 

She had leapt into Ron’s arms and kissed him on the cheek, smiling and holding onto him like she was afraid he wasn’t really there. Kit watched as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley shared an amused look as Ron’s face turned pink.

“H-Hi,” he stammered as he pulled away. “Wow— you look… great!”

Kit glanced to where their hands had joined together as they began to speak. The marks of the tentacles remained on both, a testament to the ordeal they’d faced with those strange brains. There was a moment that Kit saw Su’s arm twist slightly, and it was almost like the painful pattern on her pale arm continued onto Ron’s freckled one. 

Su, of course, had attracted more of Mrs. Weasley’s attention the longer that she remained speaking hurriedly to Ron. She came over and greeted her. “Hello, dear, I don’t think we’ve met formally. I’m Molly.”

“Hello,” said Su brightly as she shook her hand. “I’m Su Li.”

“Li?” she asked, the smile on her face only widening as if this brought her back some warm memories. “Yes… I remember your father. He was good friends with my brothers, Gideon and Fabian…”

At least, it looked like Mrs. Weasley liked Su a lot more than she liked Fleur.

They’d boarded the train quickly after, Su and Ginny going to find some compartments to sit in while Blaise walked Hermione, Ron, and Kit to the prefects’ carriage.

“We’ll see you all soon,” said Hermione, her cheeks still tinted pink as she waved at Blaise.

The prefects’ carriage was bustling with excitement. The new fifth year prefects seemed quite pleased with themselves. It stunned Kit to think that’d been them, just last year. So much had changed since then. And when she’d been in here before, another big change had happened. Cedric’s death and finding out her mother was being mind-controlled. Now, her mother’s death and figuring out how to try and get Alana to be lucid again.

“Kit!” came Anthony’s voice as he sat beside her. “Good to see you, how was your summer?”

“It was good,” she chirped. “How was yours?”

“Better than I expected,” he said as they leaned back to let others past. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I came out to my family and they were really supportive.”

“Aww, I’m so happy for you,” she said, pulling him into a side hug. “Did Terry do the same?”

“Er— no. His parents are a lot less accepting of that… which is a bummer. I really want my family to meet him, but they can’t unless his parents are in the know… which sort of sucks. But everyone at their own pace.”

“Things will work out,” said Kit, trying to be optimistic. She looked up at the door as she heard Pansy Parkinson’s loud voice, but frowned when she saw that Theodore Nott was behind her, a prefect’s badge pinned to his chest.

“Oi, Nott!” said Kit sharply. “Where’s Draco?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he sneered, clearly still not about to be kind to her after the whole issue last term with Harry naming his father as a Death Eater, Kit supporting it, and later Draco forcing him to let them go and defy Umbridge. 

“I’m serious,” she said, frowning at him. 

Pansy cast her a look, as though she didn’t necessarily want to answer her question, but she thought it the civil thing to do. “Draco quit,” she said as she stepped in front of Kit. “Wouldn’t tell us why, but he insists it’s not his environment anymore.”

Kit gaped at her. _Draco had given up being a prefect?_ She could remember all their snogs and deep conversations whilst linking hands in the hallways late at night, whenever they were on duty together. “Oh,” she said quietly. “Oh… okay.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t know, Thompson,” huffed Nott as he sat down beside her, since there was no room elsewhere. “Thought you and him were all cozy.”

She remained silent. So, clearly they had no idea that Draco was ignoring her. And they didn’t know why he quit. Surely, they had to have some idea what he was up to? Unless he didn’t want them to know… 

She had hardly paid attention the entire time, really only tuning in to meet the new Head Boy and Girl. 

The Head Boy was Cassius Warrington, from Slytherin. She didn’t know much about him other than the fact he played Quidditch, and that he was ruthless on and off the field when it came to rivalries. However, she could tell from how he spoke that he was rather intelligent, and that he probably had gotten this position because he was trustworthy, despite his rude antics in the past. She supposed such things could be forgiven. She wondered who even picked Head Girl and Boy— maybe McGonagall and Dumbledore. 

The Head Girl was Hufflepuff Elena Carmichael. Kit recognized her as being seventh year Ravenclaw Eddie Carmichael’s twin sister. She was sweet yet assertive, and it struck Kit that the girl should have been a Ravenclaw or a Gryffindor, but all the same, it was nice that to see a Slytherin-Hufflepuff combination for this year’s leadership, since last year, Roger Davies and Alicia Spinnett had formed a Ravenclaw-Gryffindor power duo. She supposed, at least, Elena would keep Warrington in check. 

As usual, rules didn’t matter. Kit hardly followed them. She didn’t even know why she was still a prefect. She would have thought that Umbridge would’ve stripped her of the position last year, and yet, here she was, not even caring to internalize what the new policies were. They just patrolled and gave detentions if necessary, blah blah blah. So long as Kit looked at the schedule, she’d be fine. Besides, she could always ask Anthony or Hermione for clarification. They were taking notes.

She and Anthony had parted ways after the meeting, since Anthony was going to meet Terry in one of the bathrooms, since they were still being rather private about their relationship when it came to the whole school. Kit had followed Hermione and Ron to where they found Harry, Blaise, Su, Neville, and Luna already piled into a compartment, a chilling mist passing through them as they opened the door and came in to sit down. 

“Wish the lunch trolley would hurry up, I’m starving,” said Ron longingly, slumping into the seat beside Harry and rubbing his stomach. “Hi, Neville. Hi, Luna. Guess what?” he added, turning to Harry. “Malfoy’s not doing prefect duty.”

Harry immediately turned to Kit, who shrugged. “I’m at a loss trying to understand it, too,” she murmured truthfully. “I really hope it wasn’t my fault that he chose to do that…”

Blaise furrowed his eyebrows. “Well, I didn’t speak to Draco much, but he’s been a bit discouraged. Didn’t do as well on his O.W.L.s as he expected, and I think he got a bit antsy about it, and wants to focus more on schoolwork.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Ron, nodding to this. “‘Cause he and Kit would snog all the time on prefect duty.”

She cast him a sharp look, and decided to change the conversation. “So, Neville, Luna, how have you been?”

She was thankful at least that Neville no longer harbored resentment for her. After the Ministry, he knew that she was really quite different from her family, though of course, he still looked wary in her presence, considering how Alana had tortured him.

“I’ve been loads better,” said Neville, holding up a new wand. “My Gran let me get a new one after my old one broke. It already feels better.”

“Wasn’t your old wand your father’s?” she inquired. “Maybe that’s why it didn’t feel right before, you’d needed one of your own. I reckon your aptitude for magic’s always been great, you just needed a more personalized wand.”

He beamed at this, and Luna cast her a look. “Kit, your head is full of Nargles,” she said solemnly. “I think you’re too stressed.”

“Probably because of Draco,” sighed Su. “I swear, I’ll punch him if he doesn’t talk to you.”

“No need for that,” said Kit quickly. “I’ll talk to him soon— he can’t avoid me in the castle. We just need to—”

She was interrupted by the arrival of a very breathless third-year girl. “I’m supposed to deliver these to—” she struggled to catch her breath, “to— Blaise Zabini, Katherine Thompson, Neville Longbottom, and Harry P-Potter…” she faltered and turned scarlet as she held out four scrolls of parchment, which were adorned with violet ribbon. 

Perplexed, the four reached forward and took each of their scrolls.

“What is it?” Ron demanded.

“An invitation,” said Harry as Kit opened hers and looked down at it.

“ _Katherine,_

_I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor H.E.F. Slughorn_.”

“I recognize this name,” said Blaise. “He was a Professor here at Hogwarts before.”

“What does he want me for?” said Neville nervously, as though he was expecting detention. 

“No idea,” said Harry blankly. “Guess we ought to go find out.”

_Comment for more :) Any thoughts are much appreciated!_


	64. Chapter 64

**There was a reason Kit had never wanted to be part of clubs in the past.**

To be honest, it felt more like a cult the longer she remained there.

They had reached compartment C and saw that while they were not the only invitees, their group was welcomed most warmly because of Harry’s presence. 

“Harry, m’boy!” said Slughorn, jumping up at the sight of him. His shiny bald head and great silvery mustache gleamed as brightly in the sunlight as the golden buttons on his waistcoat. “Good to see you, good to see you!” He turned to Blaise first. “Mr. Zabini, isn’t it? You look remarkably like your parents.”

Blaise offered a polite smile as Slughorn gestured him to sit down, “And Mr. Longbottom,” said Slughorn to Neville, who still looked scared. He finally turned to Kit. “Miss Thompson, I’ve been quite eager to finally meet you. I hear that you take after your uncle, Douglas Thompson. I was quite sad to hear of his passing, and that of your mother.”

She cast him a tight-lipped smile and slid into the seat beside Blaise, who squirmed a bit uncomfortably. Looking around, she recognized Ginny and Marcus Belby (a seventh year Ravenclaw), but not the wiry-haired boy who was beside them, looking at least to be a seventh year as well. 

“Now, do you know everyone?” Slughorn asked Harry. “I assume you know those who you came with.” He gestured to the wiry-haired boy. “This is Cormac McLaggen, perhaps you’ve come across each other—? No?”

McLaggen, a large, wiry-haired youth, raised a hand, and Harry nodded back at him. 

“Well now, this is most pleasant,” said Slughorn cozily, assuming that everyone else was acquainted. “A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin. I’ve packed my own lunch; the trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on licorice wands, and a poor old man’s digestive system isn’t quite up to such things… Pheasant, Belby?”

Belby started and accepted what looked like half a cold pheasant.

“I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the pleasure of teaching his Uncle Damocles,” Slughorn told Harry, Neville, Kit, and Blaise, now passing around a basket of rolls. “Outstanding wizard, outstanding, and his Order of Merlin most well-deserved. Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?”

Unfortunately, Beiby had just taken a large mouthful of pheasant; in his haste to answer Slughorn he swallowed too fast, turned purple, and began to choke.

“ _Anapneo_ ,” said Slughorn calmly, pointing his wand at Belby, whose airway seemed to clear at once.

“Not...not much of him, no,” gasped Belby, his eyes streaming.

“Well, of course, I daresay he’s busy,” said Slughorn, looking questioningly at Belby. “I doubt he invented the Wolfsbane Potion without considerable hard work!”

“I suppose...” said Belby, who seemed afraid to take another bite of pheasant until he was sure that Slughorn had finished with him. “Er...he and my dad don’t get on very well, you see, so I don’t really know much about...”

His voice tailed away as Slughorn gave him a cold smile and turned to McLaggen instead. It struck Kit as though Slughorn was no longer interested in Belby simply because he wasn’t in consistent contact with his uncle. 

“Now, you, Cormac,” said Slughorn, “I happen to know you see a lot of your Uncle Tiberius, because he has a rather splendid picture of the two of you hunting nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?”

“Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was,” said McLaggen. “We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour; this was before he became Minister, obviously—”

“Ah, you know Bertie and Rufus too?” beamed Slughorn, now offering around a small tray of pies; somehow, Belby was missed out. “Now tell me...”

Yep, a cult, thought Kit with a small secretive smirk. Everyone here was invited because they were connected to somebody well known or influential— everyone but Ginny. 

Slughorn was clearly eager to hear more about Harriet Zabini was doing, as she had been his student, but now, she had quite the reputation that tied with her riches and marriages. Poor Blaise looked very uncomfortable, but when Kit cast him a look asking if he wanted her to intervene, but he waved her off quickly. Neville was pinpointed because of how famous his parents were, and Kit could tell that Slughorn was still examining to see whether he possessed any of his parents’ flair.

Then, of course, it’d been her turn.

“Katherine Thompson,” he sighed. “Your uncle was brilliant and one of my best students. A true Ravenclaw. Your mother too, of course, she was excellent, and I always knew she had the potential for greatness in her.”

Kit cast him a wry look. “Well, I never met my uncle, but I did hear good things,” she said. “As for my mother, yes, she was indeed excellent.”

Kit noticed that the entire time Slughorn was questioning her, he looked mildly uncomfortable. Perhaps it was her vague answers, since she really hadn’t known her mother all too well. Anything she had to tell was rather morbid, but all the same, Slughorn seemed keen on knowing her, as if associating her with their abilities. 

It struck her as odd that Draco wasn’t here. After all, his father and grandfather were quite well-known and influential, though she supposed that Lucius being in Azkaban put a bit of a damper on the situation. As far as the media knew, Kenneth Thompson wasn’t a Death Eater, but Alana Lestrange-Thompson was. At least, Kit was glad that her father wasn’t brought up, because despite his brains, any informed person would know that he was dangerous.

“And now,” said Slughorn, shifting massively in his seat with the air of a compere introducing his star act. “Harry Potter! Where to begin? I feel I barely scratched the surface when we met over the summer!” He contemplated Harry for a moment as though he was a particularly large and succulent piece of pheasant, then said, “‘The Chosen One,’ they’re calling you now!”

Harry said nothing. In fact, it looked to Kit as though he wanted to dig a hole and sink into it, not wanting the attention placed on him. 

“Of course,” said Slughorn, watching Harry closely, “there have been rumors for years… I remember when...well— after that terrible night— Lily— James— and you survived— and the word was that you must have powers beyond the ordinary. Such rumors this summer. Of course, one doesn’t know what to believe, the Prophet has been known to print inaccuracies, make mistakes, but there seems little doubt, given the number of witnesses, that there was quite a disturbance at the Ministry and that you were there in the thick of it all!”

Harry just nodded again, looking uncomfortable. Slughorn pressed on. “So modest, so modest, no wonder Dumbledore is so fond— you were there, then? But the rest of the stories— so sensational, of course, one doesn’t know quite what to believe— this fabled prophecy, for instance—”

“We never heard a prophecy,” said Neville, turning pink as he said it.

“That’s right,” said Ginny staunchly. “Neville, Blaise, Kit, and I were there too, and all this ‘Chosen One’ rubbish is just the Prophet making things up as usual.”

“You four were there too, were you?” said Slughorn with great interest, looking eagerly between the four of them. However, all he received was blank expressions, not wanting to be questioned about it. “Yes...well...it is true that the Prophet often exaggerates, of course...” Slughorn said, sounding a little disappointed that they didn’t want to speak of it. “I remember dear Gwenog telling me (Gwenog Jones, I mean, of course, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies) —”

He meandered off into a long-winded reminiscence, but none of them were listening. The five exchanged awkward looks while Belby kept eating, and McLaggen pretended to be quite interested.

The afternoon wore on with more anecdotes about illustrious wizards Slughorn had taught, all of whom had been delighted to join what he called the “Slug Club” at Hogwarts. Kit was plotting how to end the meeting early, but she was not sure what she could do without coming off as rude.

Finally the train emerged from yet another long misty stretch into a red sunset, and Slughorn looked around, blinking in the twilight. “Good gracious, it’s getting dark already! I didn’t notice that they’d lit the lamps! You’d better go and change into your robes, all of you. McLaggen, you must drop by and borrow that book on nogtails. Harry, Blaise, Kit — any time you’re passing. Same goes for you, miss,” he twinkled at Ginny. “Well, off you go, off you go!”

They scrambled out, and Kit let out a ragged sigh. 

“I’m glad that’s over,” muttered Neville. “Strange man, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he is a bit,” said Harry. “How come you ended up in there, Ginny?” 

“He saw me hex Zacharias Smith,” said Ginny. “You remember that idiot from Hufflepuff who was in the D.A.? He kept on and on asking about what happened at the Ministry and in the end he annoyed me so much I hexed him— when Slughorn came in I thought I was going to get detention, but he just thought it was; it really good hex and invited me to lunch! Mad, eh?”

“Well, at least you were invited for something worth it,” said Blaise sourly. “I bloody hate being seen a certain way just because of my mum…”

Harry winced slightly, and Kit patted his shoulder. “I’m going back to the compartment,” she said dejectedly.

“I’ll come with,” said Blaise with a huff, and the two left the others quickly.

“I swear, I’m sick of it,” muttered Blaise as they walked. “She’s my mum and I appreciate her, of course, but Andrea and I are _always_ associated with her for her reputation. That’s why Andrea left the country in the first place. Seriously, if she doesn’t last with this man that she’s with, I don’t know if I’ll be sticking around much after we graduate.”

Kit tried to perk up his mood. “You can go traveling with Hermione. I’m sure you’d both enjoy it.”

At this, he turned pink, and a small smile came onto his face. “Andrea’s nuts about her,” he said. “She adores her. Says that if I don’t marry Hermione, she’s going to disown me as her brother. Guess she really wants her as a sister-in-law.”

Kit giggled. “Meanwhile, you get those rambunctious quadruplets as in-laws.”

“Ah, they’re not too bad when they’re apart. But put them together and they’re worse than the Weasley twins. They lack a _lot_ of maturity.”

“Are you going to ask Hermione out anytime soon?” inquired Kit.

Blaise nodded. “Soon. I just…. I want to time it right, you know? I think at least by Christmas. If we keep getting invited to this Slug Club business, then I’m sure I’ll want her to be my plus one so I don’t try to blow my brains out every time. I wasn’t able to take her out on a formal date this summer with everything that’s happening, but Hogsmeade weekends and any Slug Club events can serve their purpose that way. You know, formal stuff is more of my strong suit.”

“Yes, emphasis on the fact you wear a suit and look quite dapper in one,” she said, nudging him. “It’s your strength. Those high cheekbones and seductive eyes…”

“I’m sure Hermione _swooned_ the first time he saw my eyes,” he said playfully. 

“And she swoons all the time because you make her feel acknowledged,” said Kit pointedly. “Remember that. You treat her well, and she notices it. You let her be herself without judging. She’s lucky to have you.”

He shrugged. “I like to think I’m the lucky one. She’s bloody brilliant and kind. Thoughtful.”

“Make sure to tell her that eventually,” said Kit, beckoning for them to go silent as they got back to their compartment.

“What was all that about?” said Ron, who had Su fast asleep leaning against his shoulder.

“A cult, is what it is,” said Kit as she plopped down beside Luna. Blaise seated himself comfortably next to Hermione. “We’re only there because we’re related to influential people. Bollocks, I say. I honestly didn’t know my uncle was that well known. As for my mother… I dunno.”

“Was Draco there?” asked Hermione curiously.

“No. That’s what was weird to me. Why me and not him? We’re basically the same. If it’s because of the latest Malfoy reputation then that’s strange, because I’m certain someone like Slughorn would know that the Thompson breed is _much_ worse.”

“Perhaps it was because of the Ministry thing,” said Blaise. “I didn’t consider that, because he didn’t seem to know that some of us had gone with Harry, but think— he knew about your mother.”

Kit shook her head. “I don’t think so. Publicly, my mother died of illness. No news on the murder. I asked Alastor to not flaunt it about, to make my father think he’s not being targeted by anyone other than the Order of the Phoenix. If he thinks he’s safe, it might let him focus on his scheming. Which, granted, could be bad, but I don’t want him being alert because it might lead him to finding out what I’m investigating about Alana.”

Hermione gave her a sympathetic look. “If you need help with the research, let me know. I can have my parents send any Muggle books regarding medicine if you need them.”

Kit beamed at her, and shared a subtle happy look with Blaise. “Thanks, Hermione.”

Ron’s face became pensive. “I reckon you ought not use Malfoy’s owl anymore,” he said thoughtfully. “Your father will recognize it if you’re going to be communicating with Moody. Maybe you can use Pig. After all, Ginny and I don’t send letters all that often, and a little thing like that might draw less attention.”

“That’s good thinking, Ron,” said Kit. “You know, I probably should have bought myself an owl now that my parents can’t make me not have one. Oh, well. Once I turn seventeen, I’ll have free reign to do literally anything.”

Luna looked up at this, as if suddenly interested in the conversation. “A lot of Ravenclaws have owls they hardly use,” she said vaguely. “They’d help you if you asked politely. Switching owls is always a good idea.”

“Even better,” said Kit, throwing her hands up, pleased that her friends were pitching such useful ideas. “I’ll see who’s willing to help with that.”

When the train came to a halt, they got their robes on quickly, but Hermione’s face immediately scrunched in worry. “Where are Harry and Neville?”

“Probably with Ginny,” said Blaise. “We left them all together— Ginny was mentioning that she hexed Zacharias Smith.”

Ron snorted. “Good for her.” He then stopped. “Wait, Ginny was invited to Slug Club?”

“Yes,” said Kit as they made their way out. “Slughorn saw her and admired it.”

He looked a bit hurt, but Su, who was now awake and rubbing her eyes, leaned onto him. “We should duel in the middle of the hallway and make it really exciting so he invites us, too.”

They arrived at the carriages and began to pile in, though Kit was hesitant to board, as her gaze caught onto the leathery-winged, skeletal horse that was pulling the carriage.

Luna, who was not at all fazed because she’d been seeing them for so long, put her hand on Kit’s back. “This one’s Tenebrus,” she said, pulling her toward the thestral. “I recognize him.”

Hesitantly, Kit followed, nearing the reptilian face and watching it snort, examining her in surprise. “Hi,” she said quietly as she saw Luna reach up and pat its forehead. 

“He’s sweet,” said Luna, bringing her hand to Kit’s so that she could pet him. “See? Gentle. Very smart. I think when we went to the Ministry, you were on a thestral that looks very much like him— I remember. It was a female, though.”

Kit offered her a small smile. She had thought perhaps, she might not feel so sad when beholding the thestrals, but it only served as a reminder of what she had witnessed in June.

_“MUM!” screamed Kit, her neck aching from how hard Kenneth was holding her, forcing her to watch her mother’s life slipping away, restrained so that there was nothing she could do to help. “MUM! Don’t— Don’t give up! STOP IT! I-I— there— there h-has to b-be something— you— you just need to hang on! MUM!”_

_“We’ll see each other again,” Alison croaked, spitting out more blood as she gave a shuddering breath. “Remember,” she whispered, opening her eyes one last time. Kit had never noticed how similar her eyes were to her mother’s. “I love you forever. I’m… I’m so sorry I never got… got to show…” Her hand went limp, and her eyes remained open, unblinking._

_Kit let out an anguished scream. She was going hysterical— as hysterical as she could have gone given her position. Kenneth let out a mirthless laugh and threw Kit onto the floor beside the dead body of her mother, standing up and pointing his wand at her. “My, my, how long I’ve waited for this moment,” he said, his voice eerily soft. “Finally, rid of my two biggest burdens. It’s a pity you didn’t just conform… Alison needn’t have died. This was all your fault, Katherine. I’ll be sure to… send Draco your body. Avada Ke—”_

“Kit?” 

She flinched as Luna pulled her into the carriage with the others, who were glancing at her silently, in concern. She offered them a small smile, though on the inside, she felt only pain. “I’m fine,” she said. “Just… a weird sight, is all. It’s so… bony.”

Ron and Su very obviously tried to alleviate the mood by sharing a look as if they might laugh. “She said ‘bony,’” Su giggled, nudging him.

“You need to bone already,” said Kit under her breath as Blaise chuckled loudly. 

The ride up to the school was fairly calm, at least, as calm as it could be granted that Hermione looked worried about Harry and Neville’s whereabouts. Kit supposed that since they’d been in the compartment earlier, she’d expected them all to go in the same carriage.

They parted ways in the Great Hall, where Su and Kit made their way to the Ravenclaw table. They passed by Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe, who was wearing a balaclava to conceal the residual ugly markings that Hermione had left on her when she snitched. Cho nodded courteously to Kit, as she was her Quidditch Captain now, but Marietta glared up at her as if she were to blame. 

The two girls arrived to their usual spot at the table, finding that more of the boys were there than usual. Terry and Anthony were at opposite ends to avoid suspicion, and sitting with them were Stephen Cornfoot and Kevin Entwhistle, who normally sat off with Michael Corner, nearer to Lisa Turpin, Mandy Brocklehurts, and Padma Patil. But it seemed that Michael was making his way to sit with Cho, and the girls were joined by a few of the fifth and seventh year girls who seemed engrossed in some sort of gossip.

“Kit!” said Terry happily. “Su! Nice to see you both.”

“Thanks, Terry, we’re touched,” said Su as they sat down across from Stephen and Kevin, who were looking rather silent. Su waved her hand in front of their faces. “Are you alright?”

“Oh,” said Kevin, looking a bit startled. “Yeah. No offense, just not used to sitting over here.”

“Ah, you’ll fit right in,” said Kit. “Think— you and I are K’s, and Su and Stephen are S’s. Kind of uncanny, but it fits.”

Stephen cracked a smile at this. “So, you’re Captain now, right? Think you’ll have a spot for me on the team? Kevin liked it last year.”

“Well, there are quite a few vacancies,” said Kit. “Roger, Orion, and Norman graduated, so that leaves all the Chaser positions open.”

“Except for one,” piped up Su. “You’re Chaser.”

Kit nodded. “Yeah, true. Er— I don’t know if Eddie Carmichael will want to play Keeper again, he really only stepped in last year ‘cause he didn’t have much on his plate, but now as a seventh year and with his sister as Head Girl, I think he’ll want to focus on his studies. He’s trying to get this really difficult internship in New Zealand, I think.”

“Michael wants to play Beater again,” said Kevin. “If Cho stays as Seeker, he’ll want to stay too.”

“I doubt she’ll be removed from that position, so I suppose that’s all good,” said Kit. “But everyone needs to try out again, even me. We have to pick the best players, but of course, there is hope for others since I think I’d like to have a reserve Chaser, reserve Keeper, and reserve Chaser. We can survive without a Beater, but those other positions are important.”

Su seemed to like this idea. “I know I’m new, but you think I should try out for Seeker? Hypothetically, if I get picked, I could play Chaser and simultaneously be reserve Seeker, if anything.”

“Sure, if you want,” said Kit. “I think I want everyone to outline what positions they’re going for as well as which positions they wouldn’t mind being reserve for.”

She stopped speaking as three figures passed behind Stephen and Kevin. Mimi, followed by Isobel and Orla. “Hi, all,” said Mimi quietly, looking at Kit only briefly. Behind her, Isobel and Orla seemed scared to even glance at Kit.

“Hi,” said Kit. Su said nothing, and pretended to be quite interested in her empty goblet.

The three girls swept away to sit nearer to the gaggle of gossipy sixth and fifth year girls, which made Su grit her teeth. “I can’t believe she’s still being so short with you,” she said sourly. “I can say I somewhat understand her reluctance before, but even Neville hasn’t got a problem interacting with you.”

Kit tried not to let it bother her. “If she wants to steer clear of me, let her. I can’t force her to be my friend if she thinks that being around me is going to drag her into trouble.”

She turned to face the Gryffindor table, seeing Hermione still glancing around worriedly. Ginny and Neville were already there, but Harry was nowhere in sight. Kit furrowed her eyebrows and looked toward the doors of the Great Hall just in time to see Draco walking in, looking rather smug. 

He went to sit beside Blaise, who didn’t seem all to pleased to see him, considering he was ignoring Kit. They had some sort of conversation, and Pansy and Theo leaned in to listen, while Crabbe and Goyle entertained themselves speaking with Urquhart, who was wearing the distinct badge that was meant to be worn by the Slytherin Quidditch Captain.

“Did that little prick give up his captaincy?” hissed Kit, making Su turn to look with her. 

“Seems so,” said Su. “Why aren’t you wearing your badge, by the way?”

“I don’t want to wear it unless we’re in a match,” she said, turning slightly pink. “Don’t need it clashing with my prefect badge, I’ll look pompous.”

She glanced back at the Slytherin table just in time to lock eyes with Draco.


	65. Chapter 65

**Kit looked away so quickly that she almost snapped her neck.**

“Casual, Kit, real casual,” said Su as she watched her friend’s face redden.

“Well, he hasn’t talked to me,” she said quickly.

Su raised her eyebrows. “Are you going to tell me the truth about that, by the way?”

“What do you mean?”

“Hermione mentioned that you and Draco apparently had some sort of physical altercation and that he hasn’t spoken to you. No offense, but that doesn’t sound true.”

Kit certainly didn’t take offense. She should have expected that Su knew her too well to believe a lie like that.

“Okay, fine, we didn’t fight, but it’s not something I can tell you,” she said honestly as Cassius Warrington and Elena Carmichael led in the first-years behind McGonagall. “It’s not my secret to tell.”

Su’s eyebrows shot up. “Were you _pregnant_?” she gasped immediately.

“I am not pregnant!” she said. “If I was pregnant, it’d be _my_ secret, wouldn’t it?”

Su face palmed. “Right, sorry. I just— wow. My mind jumped there. You two haven’t even done it yet.”

“Neither have you and Ron.”

“We haven’t kissed on the lips yet, but you and Draco pounce on each other like bloody rabbits.”

“Not lately,” she said, refraining from looking back. She shut her eyes. “Is it just me or does his jawline look more defined?”

Su did the peeking for her, now that Draco was thankfully turned away. “Ooh, it is. My goodness, it looks sharp enough to stab someone with.”

Kit groaned. “This is so frustrating! We should be together at this point, or something! I swear, I’m going to corner him after this and—”

“Snog him and shag him?” said Su innocently, ignoring the Sorting Hat’s song for once. “Maybe that’ll make tensions go away. Unless… it was the sexual aspect that drew him away? Oh my— is he castrated or something?”

“He is _not_ castrated,” said Kit. She then paused. “Er— at least not to my knowledge.”

“And what knowledge might that be?” she said, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Kit made a face. “Maybe the fact that he tells me everything? Anytime he’s got any sort of ailment he’ll tell me and ask if he needs to go to the Hospital Wing for it.”

“But how do you know for sure? He might not have thought to tell you about such a thing.”

“Am I going to have to listen to the two of you discussing Malfoy’s thirsty ferret?” said Terry, making Kit clap her hands over her mouth as Su giggled.

“Terry, you needn’t call _it_ that just because he got turned into a ferret in fourth year,” Su snickered.

“Please, let’s just not talk about this anymore,” said Kit desperately, putting her head down as the Sorting began. 

She kept her head down all the way through until the last child had been sorted, and only straightened up when the roast chicken and turnips appeared in front of her. She began to fill her plate, ignoring the suggestive looks Su was giving her. 

Clearly, Kit hadn’t done a good job of implying that her and Draco’s distance was caused by a rather dark situation. Su was obviously convinced that it had to do with the intimacy of their relationship, likely because they were sixth years already, and at that point, the majority of those in their year were beginning to get frisky. Many had experience already, but from what Kit recalled Andrea telling her long ago, sixth and seventh year were when the majority of people finally realized they’d been pining for each other and just shoved their values aside to bed each other.

Kit wasn’t sure how connected she felt with such an environment. Of course, there had been many times when she and Draco had wanted to go further, but as it was not in their best interests to do so, they had held back. She knew that Anthony and Terry had certainly done their fair share. Considering how Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott were always interaction, she was sure they’d gone for it too.

She didn’t feel awkward, just unamused. She didn’t care what anyone thought of her if she didn’t have experience— it wasn’t like anyone’s opinions mattered. If they wanted to spread rumors that she was celibate and stingy, then she’d certainly have a good laugh at it. After all, there were more important things in life. 

She enjoyed her meal despite Su’s glances. Surely, the dark haired girl was waiting for a great deal more information. Kit wished she could tell her the truth— it would have been nice for her to know. Someone as patient and understanding as Su wouldn’t tell a soul about the Death Eater predicament. But it was dangerous for her to be aware of it. 

By the time they were finishing up the pudding they had for dessert after a very heated discussion with Kevin and Anthony regarding whether Stephen should try out for Keeper or Chaser, Dumbledore got to his feet at the staff table, causing all the talk and laughter echoing around the Hall to cease almost instantly. 

“The very best of evenings to you!” he said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room.

Su let out a small gasp. “What happened to his hand?” she said, mortified.

Kit noticed it, too. It was hard not to, especially considering that Harry had told her about it earlier in the summer. The old wizard’s right hand was blackened and shriveled, looking practically dead. Whispers echoed around— they were not the only ones who had noticed. 

Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury. “Nothing to worry about,” he said airily. “Now… to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you...”

“That looks disgusting,” said Kevin, turning pink after he said it. “Not in like— a rude way. Just… injuries like that gross me out.”

“It’s cursed, I reckon,” mused Kit. “Illnesses don’t really do that. And if they did, surely someone like Madam Pomfrey would have helped him heal it.” 

“...and Mr. Filch, our caretaker,” Dumbledore was saying, “has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

“Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise.”

“Aw, bummer,” said Terry, looking glum. “Lee’s graduated. Wonder who’ll take up his position after the legacy he left. He did it all seven years he was here!”

“You should do it,” said Anthony, beaming at him. “You’d do good talking at that speed.”

Terry blushed. “Ah… I don’t know…”

Dumbledore was, of course, still speaking. “We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year, Professor Slughorn”— Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, his big waistcoated belly casting the table into shadow — “is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master.”

“Potions?”

“ _Potions?_ ”

The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered whether they had heard right.

“Professor Snape, meanwhile,” said Dumbledore, raising voice so that it carried over all the muttering, “will be taking the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

“No!” said Harry, loudly from the Gryffindor table while the Slytherins burst into applause.

“How the hell did Snape manage to get Dumbledore to give him that bloody job?” said Stephen. “Hasn’t he been asking for it for ages? Why now?”

“Dunno, maybe Dumbledore’s finally lost his mind,” murmured Kevin. “Ew— I don’t want Snape teaching me how to defend myself! Why can’t we have Lupin back?”

“Snape’ll be sacked by the end of the year, just you wait,” said Su. “No way that’ll go well at all. Ugh, I’m angry now! We’ve had such terrible experiences with Defense Professors in the past— can’t we have another Lupin year? Snape makes Potions terrible enough already!”

“Now I wish I’d dropped Defense,” moaned Stephen, putting his head down. “I just might— I’ll switch back into Potions, or something…”

Dumbledore cleared his throat. They were not the only ones who had been talking; the whole Hall had erupted in a buzz of conversation at the news that Snape had finally achieved his heart’s desire. Seemingly oblivious to the sensational nature of the news he had just imparted, Dumbledore said nothing more about staff appointments, but waited a few seconds to ensure that the silence was absolute before continuing.

“Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength.”

The silence seemed to tauten and strain as Dumbledore spoke. “I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle’s magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that you teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them— in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others’ safety.”

Dumbledore’s blue eyes swept over the students before he smiled once more. “But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!”

With the usual deafening scraping noise, the benches moved back and the hundreds of students began to file out of the Great Hall toward their dormitories. 

“Ugh, this is bollocks,” said Su as they got up. She stretched her arms over her head. “What classes are you even taking? We can partner up now, you’re finally going to be in most of them with me, again!”

Kit thought for a moment, running through which classes she kept. “Transfiguration, Potions, Defense, Herbology, Charms, Ancient Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures.”

“Perfect!” said Su. “We have all the core classes together. D’you know which ones Ron is taking?”

Another moment to think. “Transfiguration, Defense, Herbology, and Charms. I think. Same for Harry. Hermione’s got all the same as mine except for Care. Oh! And she kept Arithmancy.”

“Bloody hell, she’s insane,” said Su, shivering as they waited in place for the younger students to stream past. 

“I’m just glad that as sixth year prefects, we don’t have to do much other than patrol,” Kit said. “I bet Hermione’s going to get Head Girl next year, and she’ll have her hands full.”

“Let’s hope that whoever is Head Boy is in Ravenclaw so that we have some upper hand,” said Su, tucking her arms in her pockets. “I’d like it to be Anthony. Imagine— he and Terry would get all the privacy in the world ‘cause they get their own dormitories!”

Kit’s lips curled into a smirk. “Oh, we’d never again see Terry in the Ravenclaw Common Room, that’s for sure…”

She turned toward the Slytherin table and caught sight of a rather curious exchange. Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and Nott were gone, but Blaise and Draco were still there. Blaise was talking with his hands as though explaining a tremendous problem. It occurred to Kit that it looked like he was stalling him. Her suspicion was confirmed when Blaise’s gaze flickered to her three times in a row.

“Blaise is getting me an in with Draco,” said Kit, patting Su’s shoulder. “I’ll see you in the dormitory.”

“Alright, see you!” she chirped as she made to leave.

Kit made her way over to the Slytherin table, taking advantage of the fact that Blaise was keeping Draco very focused on him. She’d have to buy a trophy or something that said ‘best best friend ever’ to give to Blaise.

Draco didn’t realize Kit had come up to him until it was too late to bolt away. He turned and saw her right behind him and jumped up, staring at her and not realizing Blaise had skipped away looking pleased with himself.

“Can we talk?” said Kit. “Actually— let me rephrase that. We _need_ to talk.”

“There is absolutely nothing to talk about,” said Draco sharply, though he didn’t turn away. “If you’re not going to take care of yourself, then I’m not going to let you be around me just to ruin your life.”

“Oh bloody fucking hell can we have a proper discussion about this? I don’t want you to just decide that we can’t be friends anymore. This is a two person thing and therefore I get a say.”

“Not when you’re being this reckless! I’m doing this for your sake because I won’t tolerate you putting yourself in danger just because you’re worried about me!”

Kit growled and grabbed his right arm, pulling him out of the Great Hall and behind the last few students. “And where the hell are you kidnapping me to?” snapped Draco.

“Where do you think, genius?” she inquired, having in mind to set off for the Room of Requirement. At least there, no one would hear their discussion. No eavesdroppers meant the secret was safe.

Draco was silent, to Kit’s surprise, the entire way to the seventh floor. He didn’t try to fight her off. He wanted to talk to her, of course, because he cared too much about her to lose her forever. But it pained him to think that this conversation was about to go terribly considering how angry she was at him.

She shoved him through the oak door as it appeared, and slammed it behind them, allotting them a broom closet sized room to speak in privately. “Talk,” she demanded, crossing his arms.

“What the bloody hell do you want me to say?” he cried in exasperation. “That I’m sorry for ignoring you? I’m not sorry! And I know that it hurt you and sure, I feel bad for that, but I will not apologize for doing something that is keeping you from being hurt more than you could possibly imagine.”

“Show me your arm, then,” she spat. “Show me if you got the Mark or not. See if it scares me. It won’t. I’ve seen that stupid Mark on both my parents and on my sister, so I’m unfazed by now. If you think I’m just going to let you push me away—”

“Listen to yourself!” he yelled. “You’re acting like this is normal! It isn’t! We should have never had to know what this meant from such a young age! And yet we do. How many times do I have to say it? I know you’re not hard of hearing and you’re definitely not stupid so please, for the love of Merlin, tell me how I need to phrase this so it goes through your stubborn skull!”

Kit glared at him. “Show me the Mark. Now.”

He gritted his teeth and yanked up his left sleeve, revealing where the skull and serpent resided on his forearm. He gritted his teeth in pain at the sight of it, the memory of the anguished branding still embedded into his brain. 

The girl across from him didn’t flinch. She stepped forward and took his arm, examining it. The skin around the edges of the mark was still red and dry, with some parts of it peeling. 

“What’s your task?” she inquired, looking up at him. “What are they asking you to do?”

“Are you insane?” he said, snatching his hand away. “I’m not telling you that!”

“How else am I supposed to help you?” she hissed. “You didn’t let me go become a Death Eater with you. Fine! Fuck it— it’s in the past. But I’ll be damned if I let you go through this alone.”

“And I’ll be damned if I let myself put you in such danger just for the sake of having you at my side!” he spat in her face, making her recoil. “See? Even now, I can’t fucking control my temper around you! I’ve tried to tell you so many times that all I do is hurt you and you keep coming back— do you want me to cause you harm? DO YOU?”

“Of course I don’t, you blithering idiot! But you’re making yourself out to be worse than you really are! Both of us are quite temperamental, that’s no secret, and we both suck at being civil, but we care about each other! You care so much that you’re pushing me away, but I care too much to just let you go! I’m not going to let you do this to me! Don’t you fucking get it? We— we have feelings for each other that run deeper than just caring, and even if neither of us admit it, it’s the truth! You can push me away all you want but I will never stop coming back, not if it means keeping you sane!”

“Stop having those feelings then!” he bellowed. “Go get feelings for someone else! Someone who won’t damage you!” He grasped her face. “Do you really think I don’t want you nearby? Of course I want you close to me! Of course I want to be able to kiss you and love you and treat you like the queen you are. But I can’t fucking do it! I’m a terrible, rude, and unappreciative brat who is in a situation that could cause immeasurable harm to people outside of just the two of us! If I let you in, you could be killed! KILLED, KIT!”

She shoved him back. “All you’re doing is trying to dissuade me, but you can’t!” She shook from head to toe, eyes brimming with tears. “I needed you, Draco! I NEEDED YOU! My mother fucking died and you weren’t there! One half-assed and shitty conversation was all I got! I needed comfort, I needed to know things were going to be okay, and you abandoned me!”

“Your mother was killed by the same bloody man who wants you dead!” he snarled. “You think your father is going to stop trying to hurt you now that you don’t live together anymore? The Malfoy and Thompson families are fucking dangerous! We’ve known that for ages! And you keep wanting to associate with me! We don’t have to get married anymore, so you should stop trying!”

She faltered. “What?”

“The marriage is disbanded!” he cried, sounding exhausted as he sank to the ground against the back wall. He covered his face with his hands “Your father wants you dead, so there’s no reason to keep such a thing standing if you’re not going to live to go through with it! Damn it— you don’t need to keep clinging onto me! The reason we got so close was because of the looming threat of our nuptials but now that it’s not a thing anymore, you can detach yourself and just go be free! Go be with someone who won’t drag you into a sea of killers!”

She crouched down to his level and took his hands, holding them tightly. “If you think that I was only interested in you because we were being forced into marriage, you are so bloody wrong. That hasn’t mattered to me in ages— too much has happened for that to be our biggest worry. We’ve changed since the day it was announced, Draco. I stayed by your side because I… I fell for you. Just like I might have fallen for you if we weren’t engaged in the first place. What matters is that you and I have something. Something special, something genuine. You can pay all the attention to your task that you want, but I _will_ be there for moral support. I _will_ help with whatever you need. You shouldn’t have to suffer alone, not when I’m right here to help you. I won’t tell anyone. No one needs to know that I’m involved. The Death Eaters expect you to do something but they needn’t know if you had a helping hand in it.”

She moved to cup his face in her hands. “You gave up on being a prefect,” she continued shakily. “Urquhart was made Captain instead of you, who deserved it more. Your only responsibilities now lie in your lessons and in your task. That’s fine. If you want it to be that way, so be it. But I will not let you become a bitter man. You’ve detached yourself from all the good things in your life that you enjoyed doing. I won’t stand for it, because I know that if I do what you want me to do— if I walk away— you’re going to lose it. Lose yourself and lose the drive to do all the things you love. With something like this, you need to stay strong. I want to be that beam, that pillar that holds you up when you need it. These times are dark and unpredictable and if we— if we don’t hold onto the good things, we’ll have absolutely nothing, and we’ll be just as ruined as our fathers.”

She brushed hair out of his face as he closed his eyes. “So I am helping you,” she breathed. “That’s final. I don’t care how minimal it is, I will do whatever I can with what you tell me, because the last thing I want is for you and my godmother to get hurt, alright? There is nothing you can do to stop me. Think. It makes sense. I won’t lie— Harry’s already pieced it together. I made sure to make him think he’s just loony, but you’re drawing too much attention to yourself by getting all isolated. People will notice that you gave up on everything you cared about. All of my friends are really curious about why we weren’t talking and it’s not good to arise suspicion like that. If we start talking again, if you stay in Quidditch and keep up with your lessons, at least, then everyone will stay in the dark about what you’re doing. I will make sure this stays secret. I will make sure to help as much as I can so it’s not a burden and so that you don’t feel like you need to push everyone away.”

He began to cry when she stopped speaking. Sobs wracked his body, and she pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly, and feeling her own eyes watering even more, her chest tightening to an almost painful extent.

“I’m so s-sorry, Kit Kat,” he sobbed into her chest, his hands desperately holding onto her arms as if he was afraid this wasn’t real, as if paranoid he was meant to suffer alone. “I-I’m so sorry…”

“Shh,” she whispered, stroking his hair. “I’m here for you. Always.”

Still shaking, he looked up at her, and brought his hand to her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. He wanted to kiss her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it— not before telling her the truth.

“I have to kill Dumbledore.”


	66. Chapter 66

**Draco thought she was going to step away from him immediately.**

It wouldn’t have been the bizarre thing to do. She had likely thought that the task was more about something material rather than straight up murder.

Instead, she had just nodded. “Alright,” she said quietly. “We’re killing Dumbledore, then.”

Kit, of course, was chilled to the bone. Sure, she was down with murder when it came to supporting any of her friends. But killing a wizard who the Dark Lord himself hadn’t been able to kill? Then again, that same Dark Lord couldn’t kill a baby… if he’d just dropped it out the window, that might have been more efficient (no offense to Harry). 

Her mind was racing as she pulled Draco back into a hug. She needed to figure out how to go about this. Her immediate instinct was to tell Alastor, but if she did, he’d probably kill Draco. Her next instinct was to tell Sirius and Remus. But they would tell the entire Order, and they might urge her to get away from Draco as soon as possible.

Thus, Kit knew that there was only two other alternatives. Snape and Dumbledore. 

Snape, the undercover Order member. She didn’t trust him, but he had helped her in the past to keep her safe from Barty Crouch Jr. And if Snape was getting his prized post at last, he and Dumbledore must be getting along quite well. Snape, after all, would never hurt Draco, and would likely know about the task already.

Dumbledore, head of the Order. She didn’t trust him either, but the constant twinkle in his eye always suggested he knew more about everything than he let on. Was there any small possibility that he might not react so negatively if he found out someone was trying to kill him? Sure, he was old, but he might still take offense if he learned that Draco was planning his murder.

Chewing on her lip as she rested her head on his shoulder, Kit didn’t know what to do. But she had a feeling that she was going to have to tell Snape or Dumbledore, eventually. As much as she wanted to keep this a secret, it was safer for an adult to know in the meantime.

She and Draco had parted ways without a more intimate embrace, but there had been an understanding that passed between them that let each of them breathe out a sigh of relief.

The following morning, Kit found the ceiling of the Great Hall was serenely blue and streaked with frail, wispy clouds, just like the squares of sky visible through the high mullioned windows. It made her smile a bit as she tucked into her porridge and eggs.

Today felt like it would be a good day.

“So, how did it go with Draco yesterday?” asked Su as she came to the table with her. 

“Good,” said Kit smoothly. “I think we worked out what we needed to. We’ll see how he acts today in classes.”

Su pouted. “Does that mean we aren’t going to be partnered together for anything?”

“Don’t be absurd, of course we’re going to be partnered together! We’ve been Charms partners for ages, just like in Transfiguration.” 

Su beamed. “Yay! I don’t suppose Harry and Ron will split, but I wouldn’t mind partnering with Ron…”

“Go for it, then,” said Kit as Flitwick started to come around distributing schedules. This time, he had to first check that they had achieved the necessary O.W.L. grades to continue with their chosen N.E.W.T.s.

“Su Li,” squeaked Flitwick as he came down, looking over at his clipboard. “Yes, ‘Outstanding’ in Charms, Transfiguration, and Herbology, very good for N.E.W.T. level. ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in Defense Against the Dark Arts as well as Potions— very well! You did very well on your O.W.L.s, I’m sure your mother was very proud. You are sure you don’t want to continue in Divination? Professor Trelawney is eager to accept students with an ‘Acceptable’ into her class.”

Su shook her head a bit too quickly. “No, I think I should just focus on the core classes. It will be a lot of work.”

Flitwick shrugged. “Very well. Next— Kit Thompson. Very well done— ‘Outstanding’ in Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Potions. ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in Defense Against the Dark Arts… oh, and ‘Outstanding’ in Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures! You’re all set. Are you quite certain you don’t wish to aim for a N.E.W.T. in Arithmancy? Professor Vector says that any student who scored ‘Outstanding’ on the O.W.L. will surely score the same on the N.E.W.T.”

“Er— I don’t want to overload myself,” said Kit. “With the Captaincy and prefect duties… I already procrastinate too much and N.E.W.T. level classes are going to be demanding enough.”

Flitwick smiled at her. “Very well. Speaking of the Captaincy— several students have already given their names to try out. I will hand you the list after today if you’d like to start setting up for tryouts. The vacancies have drawn more students to want to play, but I do not believe many more will sign up. Unfortunately, Ravenclaws are more adept with studies than with brooms.”

“Thanks, Professor,” said Kit brightly as he walked off to speak with the boys nearby. She checked her schedule as it was handed to her, and pulled her bag up. “Well, first period is Ancient Runes. I’ll see you for Defense? We have it second.”

“Sure!” said Su, with looked rather smug. “I’ll just be here, enjoying my free period…”

“Make use of it and go snog Ron or something,” Kit told her. “I’m sure he has a free period too.”

Su had made a face suggesting she just might try it out.

Runes had proved to be absolutely terrible. Were it not for the fact that Kit was thoroughly motivated to keep learning codes to exchange letters with Alastor, she might not have taken the dreadful class.

“This is ridiculous,” said Hermione as they made it to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, each carrying an armful of heavy books. Hermione plopped down beside Blaise, who was making his quills twirl in the air. “We’ve got so much homework for Runes,” she told him anxiously. “A fifteen-inch essay, two translations, and we’ve got to read all these by Wednesday.”

“I’m glad I dropped Runes,” said Blaise smugly. “Just this morning. Worked because I hadn’t bought the materials for it anyway— totally slipped my mind because I always just take Andrea’s old books, and the one subject she never took is Runes.”

Hermione moaned in agony and put her head down. Blaise patted it gently, smirking back at Kit, who’d sat down in the empty seat beside them. Su, Ron, and Harry hadn’t arrived yet. 

Kit had been zoned out watching Blaise’s quills twirl around for Hermione’s entertainment that she’d flinched and nearly flown out of her seat when Draco sat down beside her.

“You look tired,” he said casually, with less tension in his voice than she’d heard lately. “Runes got you that bad?”

“You have no idea,” said Kit. “I think even Hermione might want to off herself and we’ve only had that one class.”

Draco stretched his arms above his head. “That’s why I chose not to take any electives. Just cores.”

“Must be nice to have so many free periods,” she said glumly, looking up as Harry, Ron, and Su rushed in, almost about to be late. Su was giggling as she dropped down next to Ron, with Harry on his other side. She looked back at Kit and winked, turning back before she could make eye contact with Draco.

The classroom door opened just after, and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell immediately. 

Snape had certainly not wasted time imposing his personality upon the classroom. It was gloomier than usual, as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candlelight. New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts. Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures.

“I have not asked you to take out your books,” said Snape, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk; Hermione hastily dropped her copy of Confronting the Faceless back into her bag and stowed it under her chair. “I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention.”

His black eyes roved over their upturned faces. “You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe.”

He believed? Kit and Draco shared a look, both wanting to laugh, but refraining from it.

It felt nice for them to be together again.

“Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be more advanced.”

Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice. “The Dark Arts are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible.

“Your defenses,” said Snape, a little louder, “must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures—” he indicated a few of them as he swept past, “give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse—” he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony, “feel the Dementor’s Kiss—” a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall, “or provoke the aggression of the Inferius—” a bloody mass upon ground.

“Has an Inferius been seen, then?” said Parvati Patil in a high pitched voice from beside her sister Padma. “Is it definite, is he using them?”

“The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past,” said Snape, “which means you would be well- advised to assume he might use them again. Now...” He set off again around the other side of the classroom toward his desk, and again, they watched him as he walked, his dark robes billowing behind him. “...you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?”

Hermione’s hand shot into the air, and Kit’s followed. After all, she already could do several spells nonverbally.

Snape, of course, chose Kit over Hermione. “Miss Thompson?”

“You don’t give your enemy the advantage of knowing which spell you’re about to blast at them,” she said simply.

Snape nodded. “Yes, those who progress in using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some lack.”

“You will now divide,” Snape went on, “into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on.”

Draco and Kit had stood, and the rest of the class had followed in dividing up. Hermione and Blaise had gone closer to the windows, Su had gone to Neville, who was on the other side of her, and Harry and Ron had of course partnered together.

“This isn’t fair already,” said Draco with a small quirked lip. “You can already do nonverbals.”

“Suppose we’d better give you extra practice, then,” she said with a shrug as they stood across from each other. 

It was like they had never been apart from each other. Smirking, they had been firing spells back and forth. Draco, as it turned out, grasped the concept quickly, and soon, the two were having fun just sending jets of light back and forth, which did nothing more than provide a fun color display as encouragement for those who were still struggling. 

Snape had passed by and observed them, clearly impressed. Kit couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lingered on Draco. He certainly knew something. “Five points to Slytherin and Ravenclaw,” said Snape grudgingly, so quiet that they barely heard him.

On the other end of the room, Ron was struggling to jinx Harry. His face was purple, his lips tightly compressed to save himself from the temptation of muttering the incantation.

“Pathetic, Weasley,” said Snape loudly. “Here— let me show you—”

He tuned his wand on Harry immediately, and Harry yelled out, “ _Protego_!”

His Shield Charm was so strong Snape was knocked off-balance and hit a desk. The whole class had looked around and now watched as Snape righted himself, scowling.

“Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?” he said in a deadly voice. 

“Yes,” said Harry stiffly.

“Yes, _sir_.”

“There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor,” said Harry.

Su and Kit clapped their hands over their mouths to muffle their laughter as several people gasped. The Gryffindor boys were grinning appreciatively at this. 

“Detention, Saturday night, my office,” said Snape instantly. “I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter… not even ‘the Chosen One.’”

When class was over, Su had run to Ron immediately, likely so they could both laugh about it together. Blaise followed Hermione, but Kit remained with Draco.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” he said when he realized she was actually following him to the library. 

“I’m not babysitting you, I’m hanging out with you,” she answered with a casual shrug. “No crime in that.”

He cast her a look. “You have an out, you know. You don’t need to put up with this the entire time if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, my sweet Merlin,” she moaned, “can you stop with that? I’m not leaving you at any point. Just cope with the fact that you’re stuck with me and move on with your life.”

“You’re insufferable sometimes, Kit Kat.”

She scoffed. “And you’re not, Smok?”

“Never said I wasn’t. I know you can’t stand me.”

“And yet, I’m here next to you.”

They were silent for a moment. “I told Blaise the truth,” said Draco vaguely as they entered the library and sat at the table nearest the entrance. “He was supportive. I thought he should know. At least, since you both are keeping it secret, you can talk amongst yourselves about it. He’s not helping, he’s just going to be aware.”

“Glad to know you trust Blaise enough,” murmured Kit, looking rather proud. “Years ago, you two hardly spoke. Now, you’re good friends.”

“That’s all because of you, you know?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “We wouldn’t speak like this if it weren’t for you.”

She grinned. “Nice to know I’m forging proper relations between dormmates.”

He rolled his eyes and extracted his materials to begin working on Snape’s homework. “So, what are you going to tell your friends?”

“Well, I lied saying that I hexed you because you we got in a spat, and that’s why your left arm is so sensitive. I told Hermione and Ron specifically that you said that I should blame Harry for my mother’s death.”

Draco didn’t seem fazed. “Sounds like something I would say. Carry on.”

“Su didn’t believe that lie, and Blaise obviously knows the truth, so—”

“Wait, what did you tell Su then?”

“Literally nothing. I was super vague with her, which got her all convinced that you’d knocked me up and that our problems had to do with our relationship and how it was meant to proceed.”

Draco snorted. “She thought I knocked you up? Please, I would never be so careless. I know that the last thing in the world that you want is kids. Why would I ever be sloppy enough to put you in that position?”

“It was hypothetical anyway,” said Kit, trying to pretend his statement hadn’t given her butterflies. “I guess maybe I can tell them that we had a proper conversation and decided that we’re on a probation period to see if we want to further our relationship. Nothing needs to change. As long as you communicate with me, we’ll work things out in secret.”

He seemed to like this. “Good. Simple. They don’t need too many details, but if you want to throw in random white lies, I could care less.”

“Jolly good, then I’ll have my fun and tell Su that you _are_ castrated—”

“ _What_? Why would you think that?”

“Oh, I didn’t think so. _She_ did. But it was just a playful thing, we all know you’re not castrated.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “Um, she wasn't wrong.”

She paused for a bit. She knew he was probably joking, but the seriousness with which he delivered his statement had her wondering if Su had been onto something. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you?” she then quickly added, “not that it matters if you are, you know, you’re still valid no matter what.”

He smirked at her and kicked her under the table. “Relax, Kit Kat. My equipment is fully functional and set to be _quite_ satisfactory.”

Her cheeks went pink. “Er— I wasn’t um— wasn’t meaning anything like that.”

“I know,” he said, though he was still smirking. “Just teasing you.”

They were silent the rest of the time doing their Defense assignment.

Hormones were a sucky thing. It affected them all so much more considering how small the population of the school actually was. Along with the division of houses, tension of a certain type was bound to form after spending so many years with the same people of all gender identities and sexualities. 

It was worse that Hogwarts didn’t actually teach enough about such things. Kit recalled one awkward day in second year when all the girls had been herded into the Transfiguration classroom with Professors McGonagall and Sprout, as well as Madam Pomfrey, to discuss the changes their bodies were going through, considering many did not have parents who were quite so willing to teach them about it. 

Similarly, the same had been done with the boys, though Draco had felt it must have been much more awkward for them. Professors Snape, Flitwick, and unfortunately Lockhart had been in charge of the lesson. As anyone might expect, Snape was far too serious, and Lockhart was far too casual to make the boys feel comfortable. Were it not for Flitwick, who delivered the lesson as professionally as possible, they might have been traumatized. 

Thankfully, most students had already had the ‘talk’ with their parents. Kit recalled when her mother had sat her down and very monotely explained, handing her a book to read after if she had questions. Either way, the majority of the students had learned that year that their older peers were quite happy to ruin their innocent minds with blatant truths, so long as they came asking. Draco recalled that Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey had actually been rather nice about the younger boys coming with questions. As for Kit, she hadn’t exactly had questions, but Penelope Clearwater had offered her expertise to the girls the day after their session with the teachers.

Still, Kit thought that they should go in depth. Discussing puberty was not enough. Anything learned about actual intercourse was learned firsthand or through asking or reading. There was no explicit lesson that helped the students understand what was going on inside.

In fact, the only reason Kit knew was because she’d investigated. She had far too many queries that she didn’t want to ask aloud about, and instead, she’d asked her mother for more books the summer going into third year. She recalled that Alison had been willing to help educate her, but her lack of a motherly nature in that time made it so that all Kit ever learned was from pages and diagrams. 

However, she at least, had a very good understanding of hormones. In fact, so did Draco, who had had many questions of his own, and with such an extensive literary resource handy, he’d gotten all of his answered. They both understood positive and negative feedback loops, and which hormones were being released at each moment for them.

Of course, when together, everything went a bit fuzzy and they struggled to comprehend exactly what was happening at given moments. They were growing and it was only natural that they felt things that made them tingly near the other. 

After all, feelings make your body act in ways that are difficult to pinpoint.


	67. Chapter 67

**When the break ended, Kit bade Draco farewell and met Blaise out in the hallway.**

“Why is your face so red?” inquired Blaise curiously. “Did you and Draco already snog?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to snog him anytime without dying,” said Kit, covering her face. “It— the conversation just got so _personal_. And it was casual but I just…”

“Ah,” said Blaise, understanding what she meant. He nudged her and wiggled his eyebrows. “You’re thinking of getting frisky with Draco.”

“I’m not thinking of it! Bloody hell, why is everyone bringing it up?”

“It’s sixth year, Kit, no harm in thinking of it. As long as you’re careful, no harm done, right?”

They ceased their conversation as they arrived at Hagrid’s Hut, where he was looking rather crestfallen.

“Hi, Hagrid,” said Blaise kindly. “How was your summer?”

“Oh, it was fine, yeh know,” said Hagrid simply, looking behind them as if expecting more students to arrive. “Did yeh both have a good time? Bit o’ fun?”

“Yes, it was rather nice,” said Kit, leaning back on her heels. She and Blaise knew that they were to be the only students there.

When the official time for the lesson to begin arrived and no one had joined them, Kit saw Hagrid’s frown go even deeper. Obviously, he’d been expecting Hermione, Harry, and Ron.

“Reckon they’re late?” Hagrid asked. “Maybe bit o’ crowdin’ in the halls? Don’ know much o’ what corridors look like at this hour.”

Kit bit her lip and shared a worried look with Blaise. “Hermione couldn’t fit it in her schedule,” said Blaise. “She’s taking far too many N.E.W.T.s. I don’t think the boys could either, with Quidditch and prefect and Captain duties… plus, they both want to be Aurors and er— they were already in a bit of a fix because they didn’t get their Potions materials thinking they weren’t going to get to take the class…”

Blaise’s explanation went unheard by Hagrid. Their lesson was the dullest and saddest thing either had ever witnessed. Hagrid had hardly enough drive in him to explain what their course aims would be. He’d let them go early, though they’d remained behind to play with Fang for a bit, which made Hagrid smile ever so slightly.

“I swear, they’ve gone and broke his heart,” sighed Kit. “I know they only worked hard so that they could make him look good, but still… that class has never been difficult and the boys at least could have sacrificed themselves. They’ve got too many free periods as it is.”

“Tell me about it,” huffed Blaise. “I thought I had a lot because I dropped Runes and Arithmancy, but they’ve got an extra one without Care… say, why did you even stick with this class anyway? I honestly assumed Hermione would take it and I thought it’d be nice— Care has never been bad.”

“Well, Healers can learn quite a lot if they study creatures and their habits whenever they are hurt,” said Kit with a thoughtful look. “Plus, I like creatures and I like Hagrid. I expect it’ll be useful for me to know about all this stuff when I become a Healer— some medicines could arise from creatures in a way that doesn’t harm them. You never know.”

They’d had a free period after lunch, and while Blaise had gone to speak with the Gryffindors and Su about Hagrid’s dismay, Kit had once again made her way to the library, where she found Draco still relaxing and finishing up his assignment. 

“Hey,” she whispered as she sat with him. Just like that, the butterflies were coming back. 

“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable,” he said quickly, looking a bit flustered. “It wasn’t my intention. I guess I just jumped back into how everything used to be without being considerate of your feelings. I know I ended things abruptly and it’s rude of me to just jump back in like I didn’t hurt you. I’m sorry, Kit Kat.”

She was perplexed at his apology. “No, no, don’t worry. I just— it’s all new to me that everyone is suddenly very comfortable with such conversations. It’s just a little reality jolt— I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. I can handle the jokes.”

The truth was, it was only weird because she fancied him. And the memory of their heated snogs still lingered, and she had to admit that she’d had many imaginary encounters that had resulted in steamier interactions than what occurred in real life. 

They remained relatively silent through their free period, but headed to double Potions together all the same when it was over. 

There were only a dozen people progressing to N.E.W.T. level. The only Hufflepuff was Ernie Macmillan, and aside from Draco and Blaise, the only Slytherins were Theodore Nott and Millicent Bulstrode. Kit and Su were joined by Terry and Michael Corner. Hermione, Ron, and Harry were the only Gryffindors. 

“Nice and cozy, hmm?” said Kit as they walked in. Ernie walked up to her immediately. 

“Kit,” he said portentously, holding his hand out to her. “Didn’t get a chance to speak in Defense Against the Dark Arts this morning. Good lesson, I thought— noticed you’re getting even better at the nonverbals. D.A. did us good, didn’t it?”

When Kit shook his hand, Draco cast Ernie a wry look. “Actually, she’s just incredibly talented,” he said pointedly, looping his arm in hers and pulling her away before she could respond.

“Jealous much?” she said quietly as they went to join Su and Blaise nearby Hermione, Ron, and Harry, who were waiting at the entrance. 

“I never said that,” said Draco with a cheeky grin. “He’s pompous. I’ve never been able to stand that bloke.”

Before she could retort, the dungeon door opened and Slughorn allowed them to file into the room, his great walrus mustache curved above his beaming mouth. 

The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapors and odd smells. The group passed interestedly past large, bubbling cauldrons. There were three tables, and in front of each was a boiling cauldron. The last cauldron resided on Slughorn’s desk. Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Su sat at the first table, while Draco and Kit ended up seated with Blaise and Ernie in front of a cauldron that seemed to have boiling water in it. At the other table, Terry, Michael, Theo, and Millicent made themselves acquainted with each other.

“Now then, now then, now then,” said Slughorn. “Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don’t forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making...”

“Sir?” said Harry, raising his hand.

“Harry, m’boy?”

“I haven’t got a book or scales or anything— nor’s Ron— we didn’t realize we’d be able to do the N.E.W.T., you see—”

“Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall did mention… not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I’m sure we can lend you some scales, and we’ve got a small stock of old books here, they’ll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts...” Slughorn strode over to a corner cupboard and, after a moment’s foraging, emerged with two very battered-looking copies of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage, which he gave to Harry and Ron along with two sets of tarnished scales.

“Now then,” said Slughorn, returning to the front of the class, “I’ve prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of ‘em, even if you haven’t made ‘em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?”

He indicated the cauldron in front of Kit. Her hand shot up, but Hermione’s was faster, and Slughorn pointed at her. 

“It’s Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth,” said Hermione.

“Very good, very good!” said Slughorn happily. “Now,” he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the where the Ravenclaw and Slytherin pairs were, “this one here is pretty well known...Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too...Who can—?”

Hermione’s hand was fastest once more.

“lt’s Polyjuice Potion, sir,” she said.

“Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here...yes, my dear?” said Slughorn, now looking slightly bemused, as Hermione’s hand punched the air again.

“It’s Amortentia!”

“It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask,” said Slughorn, who was looking mightily impressed, “but I assume you know what it does?”

“It’s the most powerful love potion in the world!” said Hermione.

“Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?”

“And the steam rising in characteristic spirals,” said Hermione enthusiastically, “and it’s supposed to smell differently to each of according to what attracts us, and I can smell vanilla and new parchment and—” But she turned slightly pink and did not complete the sentence. Kit could have sworn her eyes darted to Blaise. 

“May I ask your name, my dear?” said Slughorn, ignoring Hermione’s embarrassment. “Hermione Granger, sir.”

“Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?”

“No. I don’t think so, sir. I’m Muggle-born, you see.”

Slughorn beamed and looked from Hermione to Harry, who was sitting next to her. “Oho! ‘One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she’s the best in our year!’ I’m assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?”

“Yes, sir,” said Harry.

“Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger,” said Slughorn genially. 

Draco let out the quietest of groans. “We both raised our hands every single time,” he said a bit bitterly. “And he didn’t pick us.” 

Certainly, he was used to Snape’s Slytherin favoritism. 

“Doesn’t really matter, you know that you’re still the prodigy,” said Kit with a smirk.

“Amortentia doesn’t really create love, of course,” Slughorn was saying. “It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room. When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love. And now— it is time for us to start work.”

“Sir, you haven’t told us what’s in this one,” said Ernie, pointing at a small black cauldron standing on Slughorn’s desk. The potion within was splashing about merrily; it was the color of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a particle had spilled.

“Oho,” said Slughorn again. “Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it,” he turned, smiling, to look at Hermione, who had let out an audible gasp, “that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger?”

“It’s liquid luck,” said Hermione excitedly. “It makes you lucky!”

The whole class seemed to sit up a little straighter. 

“Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, it’s a funny little potion, Felix Felicis,” said Slughorn. “Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed...at least until the effects wear off.”

“Why don’t people drink it all the time, sir?” said Terry eagerly.

“Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence,” said Slughorn. “Too much of a good thing, you know...highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally...”

“Have you ever taken it, sir?” asked Michael with great interest.

“Twice in my life,” said Slughorn. “Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoonfuls taken with breakfast. Two perfect days.” He gazed dreamily into the distance. “And that, is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson.”

There was silence in which every bubble and gurgle of the surrounding potions seemed magnified tenfold.

“One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis,” said Slughorn, taking a minuscule glass bottle with a cork in it out of his pocket and showing it to them all. “Enough for twelve hours’ luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt.

“Now, I must give you warning that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competitions… sporting events, for instance, examinations, or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only… and watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary!”

“So,” said Slughorn, suddenly brisk, “how are you to win this fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion Making. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!”

There was a scraping as everyone drew their cauldrons toward them and some loud clunks as people began adding weights to their scales, but nobody spoke. 

“One of us needs to win that bloody potion,” said Draco lowly. “I’ll lose my mind if Hermione gets it.”

Blaise chuckled at this. “Come on, she’s great, but you’re much better at potions. You’ve studied this before.”

This was true, but Draco didn’t mean his statement just because of some rivalry. A potion like that would be useful for his task. Getting lucky enough to kill Dumbledore the first time around.

Everyone was rushing about and looking at each other. It was no secret that Draco and Hermione’s potions were progressing the fastest. Kit was doing her absolute best, but she wasn’t as naturally gifted when it came to doing a potion like this on the fly, and she was hoping that Draco would pull through. 

At the end of the lesson, however, neither Draco nor Hermione proved to be the winner. 

“And time’s...up!” called Slughorn. “Stop stirring, please!”

Slughorn moved slowly among the tables, peering into cauldrons. He made no comment, but occasionally gave the potions a stir or a sniff. He seemed quite impressed with Draco’s, and he acknowledged Kit’s enough to let her know she’d done rather well. At last he reached the table where Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Su were sitting. When he saw Harry’s, a look of incredulous delight spread over his face.

“The clear winner!” he cried to the dungeon. “Excellent, excellent, Harry! Good lord, it’s clear you’ve inherited your mother’s talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are— one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!”

Harry slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into his inner pocket. Draco’s mouth promptly dropped open, and Kit brought her hand up to pop it closed before he accidentally drooled into his cauldron.

“I mean, I don’t get it,” said Draco hotly in the Slytherin Common Room later that evening. “How did he manage it? Potter’s never been brilliant at Potions.”

“Would you give it a rest?” sighed Blaise. “I gave up time with Hermione because you said you needed to rant about something important.”

“Then go be with her if this is so burdensome for you,” he said shortly.

“Woah, calm down,” said Kit, holding her hands up in surrender. “You’re all tense.”

Draco covered his face. “Just— ugh.” _Hormones_ , of course.

“Kit, you should give him a back massage,” suggested Blaise innocently. “He could use one.”

She didn’t object to that. “Sure.” She hopped onto the couch, climbing up and resting her back against the wall as she beckoned Draco to sit down. A look passed between Draco and Blaise, and Kit narrowed her eyes in suspicion when all of the sudden, Draco was taking his shirt off. Blaise looked rather smug, and at this rate, she was too stubborn to change her mind about the massage.

Kit and Draco weren’t stupid. They knew exactly what Blaise was doing with his little suggestions, and yet, neither objected. Kit was glad that Draco couldn’t see how red her face was as she rolled her palms over his bare shoulder blades, undoing the thousand knots she was finding.

“Bloody Merlin, you need a Healer to help at this rate,” she cursed when he twitched as she started unfurling a particularly painful knot further down his back. 

“Not all of us have friends who get touchy all the time,” said Draco, wincing in pain. It felt good, and it was quite relieving, but it still hurt in the moment. “You girls have no issues being so intimate with each other.”

“Is it really a crime to ask your male friends for a back rub, even if it’s for medical reasons?”

“It’s just not done,” said Blaise, smirking at their predicament. Draco’s face was completely pink, and it was clear from the way he was sitting that he was having other problems aside from just the slight discomfort from the massage. “Anyway,” he said, “I’m thinking to try out for the Quidditch team.”

“What?” said Draco. “You hate Quidditch.”

“No I don’t. I enjoy it. I just never thought to play for Slytherin. I know how, and I heard not many are trying out, so I thought I’d give it a shot.”

The real reason lay in the fact that Blaise wanted Draco to have one real friend on the team with him. He and Kit had spoken after Care regarding Draco giving up on his worldly pleasures so easily, and he thought it’d help him stay on board with Quidditch if he had someone he liked on the team with him.

Kit shrugged. “Good idea, if you want to do it. Might as well help out now that you have so many free periods.”

Blaise grinned. “Glad to hear you’re both so supportive. Thought you’d laugh at me.”

“Oh, we definitely want to laugh,” snorted Draco. “But it’s hard to laugh when this brat behind me is breaking my spine.”

“I am _not_ breaking your spine,” she hissed. “Maybe if you weren’t such a pretentious and competitive prat, you wouldn’t be all tense.”

“Maybe if you learned how to massage properly, I’d already be feeling better,” he retorted playfully.

“Maybe if you weren’t so scared to ask someone to help you before, I wouldn’t need to learn to massage you in the first place!”

“Maybe if you weren’t so stubborn, you might have helped me out before and we wouldn’t be here, would we?”

“Maybe if you could learn to do things by yourself, you wouldn’t need anyone’s help!”

“Maybe if you were nicer, I’d be willing to learn.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so annoying, I’d be nicer.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t been born, I wouldn't be so annoying.”

Kit was about to open her mouth to reply when Blaise clapped. “I think it’s my cue to leave,” he said, looking quite pleased with how the events that evening had progressed. “Good night.”

The Ravenclaw rolled her eyes and started to climb off. Draco launched to put a pillow on his lap for no apparent reason, and draped his shirt around his shoulders, playing it off like he was moving to put his legs up on the couch.

Draco tried to act casual. “You’ve got some tension yourself, Kit Kat. Sounds like you’re the one in need of a massage.”

“I wasn’t the one acting jealous of Hermione and Harry,” she said, shrugging. “But if you’re willing to do it, I’d be happy to put you to work. I bet you’ll be just as terrible at it as I was.”

“You weren’t terrible, just not very good. You did relieve some tension. But yeah… I bet I’m better at it.”

He certainly hadn’t been expecting her to peel off her robes right that second. In only her tank top, she’d shuffled back toward him. “Prove it.”

Long story short, Draco was much better at giving massages than she was.

He’d had her squirming at first, as his hands had been cold. But within a few moments, she’d ceased moving and closed her eyes, fighting to ignore the fluttery feeling in her core. 

“Say it,” he coaxed smugly. “I’m better at massages than you.”

“I will _not_ say it,” she replied stubbornly. “Not in a million years.”

“Say it,” he insisted. “I want to hear you admit I’m better.”

“You’re castrated, I wouldn’t say that’s better.”

Something had snapped and he’d put his hand around her throat from behind, pulling her toward him. He wasn’t squeezing it, and therefore not hurting her, rather simply moving her head so that he could whisper in her ear.

“Say it,” he purred. He wasn’t sure where that was coming from. It just made sense. It was hard to ignore the fact that both of them were itching to kiss the other after all those months, and with the added tension that the new environment was bringing them, it wasn’t making anything better.

She’d gulped, certain he could feel her throat pulsating against his palm. She wasn’t facing him, but she could imagine his eyes were semi-lidded, and almost dark. “You’re better,” she said so quietly that he almost didn’t hear her.

He curled his lips into a smirk. “That’s right, Kit Kat. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

In response, she slapped his hand away and turned around, crashing her lips onto his.

_Question— are y'all okay with it being more blatantly steamy? Of course, no actual smut scenes will arise (not after the whole fiasco last time). Just wondering. But to be honest, I'm assuming if y'all are still here after all the dark intense stuff that's happened, you're likely somewhat okay with all this. I just think it fits better as they're growing up and with all their built up stress, stuff is just bound to happen, you know? Comment any thoughts please :D_


	68. Chapter 68

**Were it not for the fact they were in the Common Room, they might have done a lot more than snog.**

Kit had had to sprint to Ravenclaw Tower to make it in time before curfew, but she’d done so with a giddy smile on her face. 

It seemed, at least, like they were still easing into their rekindled relationship. Draco had not yet mentioned any further details about his task (likely to not ruin the mood when they were snogging in broom closets again), but Kit was still thinking about it in her free time— who to tell? She supposed she’d have to wait for more information from him before she could make such a decision.

Draco’s mood had improved ever so slightly, but it wasn’t helping that Harry was suddenly becoming better at potions than anyone in their class. Hermione had ranted to Kit about how the reason was that Harry had some old book with annotations by someone who called themselves the Half-Blood Prince. Kit had asked Harry to see the book and he’d refused, likely thinking she’d set it on fire to keep him from using it.

“Well, I don’t know, Hermione,” said Kit vaguely as she craned to try and get a look at the book. “I suppose it isn’t _bad_ , just unfair. Draco deviates from the instructions plenty of times and it never yields poor results just because he studies the effects in his own time. This person must have been another level of prodigy if they are helping Harry out so much.”

“It’s unfair, like you said,” she huffed. “I like to follow the instructions they give us! Draco can deviate all he wants— I have no problem admitting that I don’t care to overstudy the way that he does. But this— one of us should have gotten that Felix Felicis! Not Harry!”

Kit shrugged. “You could always tell Slughorn if it bothers you so much. Besides, maybe it’s not even just the book. Snape never quite fostered an engaging environment, did he? He was always hounding Harry for one thing or another. Maybe now he naturally follows instructions better without that greasy-haired git breathing down his back. Sure, the Prince’s instructions must be helping loads, but Harry’s finally being treated respectfully in class for the first time. It could be that, too.”

Harry was clearly thriving. He’d had his first private lesson with Dumbledore that weekend, but had not relayed the fine details to Kit— just to Ron and Hermione. Su theorized that it was maybe just because he’d known them longest, but Kit knew the truth: he didn’t trust her enough, considering her relationship with Draco, and the fact that he knew about her father’s mind control. She didn’t blame him. After all, it sort of was better that she didn’t know anything— she would feel compelled to tell Draco anything useful and if her father got his hands on her, he could get the information out of her. 

At least in lessons, Kit found herself doing very well. Her growing aptitude for nonverbal spells was facilitating her performance in other courses, since such spells were also expected in Charms and Transfiguration. However, courseloads were murderous, and Kit regretted not having refined her study habits long ago. It was becoming much harder for her to allow procrastination. At the very least, the free periods helped her get a head start on homework, but with prefect duties and planning how she wanted to conduct Quidditch tryouts, it was still difficult to keep up. It was a miracle she still had the time in her day to snatch a snog with Draco.

The environment was dreary outside of classes, as well. There were more and more reports of murders coming in each day, and though there were no specific names, Kit knew her father and his psychopathic motley crew were behind it. Eloise Midgen had been withdrawn by her parents, and Hannah Abbott had left after her mother was found dead in her home. There was talk that the Patil twins were going to be pulled out of school as well. 

Kit had held her Quidditch tryouts two hours after Harry finished his. She’d been tempted to observe, but didn’t want to come off as having been spying for her own benefits, therefore, she relied on Hermione to tell her the results.

“Well, he had them fly around for a bit at first, but most were dismissed because they were only there to gawk at Harry,” said Hermione. “But he chose Katie and Ginny as Chasers, along with a new girl Demelza Robbins. The Beaters are Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote— both third years, I think. Of course Harry’s Seeker, and Ron’s Keeper— Ginny tricked McLaggen well enough that he missed one of the penalties. Ron almost missed Ginny’s shot but he managed to save it. Five out of five!”

“Ooh, that’ll be fun to watch,” said Kit. “If Su makes Chaser, that’ll be an interesting rivalry.”

Hermione shrugged. “Those two are perfect for each other with their obsession over Quidditch. By the way— Blaise told me he’s trying out.”

“Yes, he is. Mostly for Draco, I think. There weren’t a lot of sign ups with Urquhart as Captain. To be honest, the newer Slytherins haven’t as much interest in Quidditch as the boys who already graduated. Literally none of the girls want to play. Not that they’re wanted there, anyway. If Draco had accepted the Captaincy, he’d have been very nice about letting girls on the team, but Urquhart is a misogynistic cow of a boy…”

Kit’s plan had been very nicely solidified for her turn, and she had come out with her broom in hand, and two clipboards filled with notes and diagrams that she wanted to use for testing.

There were eight Ravenclaws gathered in the pitch. As expected, Eddie Carmichael had not made an appearance. Stephen Cornfoot and Kevin Entwhistle were standing off to the side with Su, the three of them holding their brooms nervously. Michael Corner and Cho were conversing off to the side, looking much more carefree. Third year Stewart Ackerley was waiting beside Orla Quirke, who for some reason, was now beaming up at Kit as she passed even though just days ago, she’d hardly looked at her when passing by with her cousins Mimi and Isobel. The youngest was a second year— Declan Erskine, who was rather tall for his age, but held the childish expression that clued into the fact he was still young. 

Behind them in the stands were Terry and Anthony, of course, sitting nearby Mimi and Isobel, who were not really observing what was happening below. Lisa Turpin and Mandy Brocklehurst had for some reason turned up to watch; Kit deduced this might be because of Stephen and Kevin. Marcus Belby was in the stands looking rather unamused to be there, likely having turned up because he had nothing better to do. Luna was there, as well, but she was scribbling away in a very colorful notebook of hers, with her spectacles over her eyes. 

“Excellent,” said Kit, holding up her clipboard and seeing Ron creeping up into the stands beside Terry and Anthony. “Thank you for your interest. One by one, I want to ask you first what position you’re mainly going for, and what position you’d like to be reserve for if you don’t get your first choice. Of course, you can pick the same position to be reserve for, or a different position. If you don’t want to be reserve for anything, please let me know. There are enough spots for all of you to be part of the team, even if you don’t have a solid position. Since there are so few of you, I think everyone deserves a chance to practice and play, because after all, if it’s the experience you lack that makes you not be chosen, I don’t see why you should be shoved away. I want everyone to be able to learn and grow even if they don’t make it onto a position that plays constantly. Understood?”

They all nodded their heads, mostly in unison. She started from the right, at Stephen. “I want to play Chaser,” he decided. “If I don’t make it, I’d like to be reserve Chaser.”

Next, Kevin. “Beater,” he stated. “And reserve Beater.”

“Chaser,” said Su brightly. “If not, reserve Seeker.”

“Seeker,” piped up Cho with a shrug. “If not… then I’ll just not play.”

“Beater,” Michael chose. “Reserve Beater.”

“Chaser,” said Orla timidly. “If not… I won’t play. Mimi doesn’t want me to get hurt.”

“Keeper,” said Stewart. “If not, reserve Keeper.”

Finally, Declan, who was smiling brightly at Kit. “Keeper, too. If not, reserve Keeper.”

“Brilliant,” said Kit, finishing her notes. “First, we’ll have our warmups. Since Michael and Kevin want to be Beaters again and no one else is going for that, we can do Chaser and Seeker tryouts with them as a basis, so it’s more realistic.”

Michael and Kevin high fived each other proudly. “So, for Chaser tryouts, we’ll have Orla, Stephen, and Su competing for the two vacancies. Since Su and Stephen are okay with being reserves, I’m sure all three of you can still be part of the team.” She turned to Orla. “Just letting you know, there is still a spot open for you if you’d like to be reserve Chaser. Since Su wants to try for reserve Seeker, it’s important we have a reserve here. If the main Seeker gets injured and the reserve needs to step in, the Chaser reserve would need to be ready to be rotated into that position.”

Orla nodded quickly with a forlorn look in her eyes. It was clear that she wanted to be part of the team even if she didn’t make it, but she was not willing to go against her older cousin’s wishes.

Kit ran her finger down the list. “Alright, and after that, we’ll have Keeper tryouts, once we get the Chasers settled in.” She looked between Stewart and Declan. “One of you will be Keeper and one will be reserve, so luckily you’ll both be part of the team.”

They beamed up at her. “Finally,” she finished, “we’ll have Cho and Su try out for Seeker.” She flipped a few pages into her notes and brought out a diagram she’d made of a routine she wanted them to fly in first. “I’ll demonstrate once you’ve all gotten a chance to look at this. I want to see how well you can all fly.”

She put her clipboards down and got onto her broom, kicking off and flying to where the hoops were. She faced the opposite direction and soared forward, snaking through the air side to side, but remaining level and oriented toward the hoops on the other side. She then dove down, plummeting toward the ground, and sharply pulled back up, returning to the altitude she’d been in, repeating it twice more before flying as fast as she could toward the opposing hoops, and coming to a halt right at center hoop without falling.

She was rather impressed with how well they did on that. Clearly, they knew how to fly. Cho had done the routine best, obviously being the most experienced with such movements after playing Seeker for so long. Su was a close second— clearly she’d been practicing quite a bit, and whether she ended up being a Seeker or a Chaser, it was certain she’d be beneficial to the team. Orla turned out to be third best, small and quick in her movements. Michael and Kevin were both pretty good as well, but with their aptitude for Beating, they didn’t need such movements to be at their prime, rather, their reflexes needed to be much quicker. Stephen, Stewart, and Declan struggled a little bit, the three of them not having as much experience with their brooms, but they’d done well all the same.

Chaser tryouts had been a breeze. Michael and Kevin had a grand time hitting Bludgers back and forth as Kit had Orla, Stephen, and Su run through drills and scoring with Stewart and Declan at each end of the pitch protecting hoops, so that they could get some practice in. Kit knew for certain she’d want Orla in a Chaser position by the end of it, but held off on placing Stephen and Su just in case Su did better at Seeking.

The Keeper tryouts had been a bit of a mess. Stewart was much smaller than Declan and didn’t have the same reach, but he was much more precise in his catches. Kit decided not to announce her choices right away, wanting to make a statement at the end first.

Seeking tryouts were absolutely crazy, but not in a bad way. Cho was marvelous as per usual, but Su had surprised everyone with how good of a fight she was putting up. She definitely didn’t have the same experience, but she could have very easily done better than Cho in certain match circumstances. 

At the end, they were all sweating and rather tired. “You all did really well,” said Kit proudly, looking up in the stands to see that as the tryouts had progressed, more Ravenclaws had come to watch. “I’m so glad to say that we will, in fact, be the Ravenclaw team— all of us. I want to say— we definitely still need to practice. Some positions may be shuffled if anything happens, such as someone progressing faster, and whatnot. It’s not to diminish everyone’s values, but strategies might demand for a change even just for one match, depending on our opponents and how everyone’s feeling. We want to win, and we have to do it the smart way, not just relying that the same person will always pull through. I may be the Captain, but I want you all to know that you have a voice, and we will all listen. Everyone should get a chance to be where they want to be. If at any point, anyone has a hunch that maybe a certain teammember should be in a different position, make your case and we’ll figure it out. After all, we have a wide variety of talents that can be moved around as needed.”

She cleared her throat and help up the roster she’d finalized. “Without further ado, here is our preliminary position list. As Beaters: Michael and Kevin. As Chasers: myself, Orla, and Su, with Stephen as reserve. As Keeper: Stewart, with Declan as reserve. As Seeker: Cho, with Su as reserve. Congratulations, everyone.”

Orla let out a squeal and hugged Stewart as Su pumped her fist into the air. “Yes!” she said, coming over to Kit as the others began to disperse. “I knew I practiced all the right things.”

“You should have played last year, they could have used you,” she said, patting her shoulder. “Now, your loverboy is over there…” she nodded up to where Ron was walking down with Terry and Anthony to congratulate the others. “Go have some fun.”

Su blushed. “You don’t think this will cause problems, do you?”

“Why should it? You’re both fanatics and briefly rivals on the Pitch— it needn’t be an issue, you know.”

She shrugged. “It was a silly thought. He looks happy. I’ll see you, Kit!” She trotted over to Ron.

Kit had left back to the castle, humming to herself pleasantly. She knew Slytherin tryouts were next, but was aware that Urquhart likely wouldn’t want anyone from other Houses watching. Therefore, she made her way to lunch, but was stopped in the halls by Slughorn.

“Miss Thompson!” he said brightly. “Glad to catch you. I had in mind to have a dinner tonight— just the Slug Club. I will be inviting your friend Hermione Granger and the charming Melinda Bobbin— her family owns a large chain of apothecaries. I wasn’t sure whether you knew her?”

“Er— yeah, she’s a Slytherin in the year below me,” said Kit. “Um… well, I’m quite tired from tryouts and I er— had promised one of my friends that I’d help him with some homework. Sixth year has been taxing on us, you see…”

“Not to worry if you can’t make it,” said Slughorn, though he looked rather disappointed. “If you decide to attend, feel free to come along!”

He walked away and Kit punched her fist in the air, pleased to have been able to skive it off.

In the evening after she’d showered, she waited outside the Slytherin Common Room for Draco. He came, a sweaty mess, with his broom in hand.

“How were tryouts?” she asked. “Anyone interesting on the team?”

He shook his head “Dunno about interesting. I’m Seeker again, and Blaise made Chaser. But he isn’t popping over here— he’s going to shower so he can accompany Hermione to that stupid Slug Club thing. Speaking of which— aren’t you going?”

“Ew, no,” she said lowly, as if afraid Slughorn might materialize behind her. “I hate clubs and I don’t want to go there just because Slughorn admired my uncle and mother. I told him I had a previous engagement with a friend and couldn’t go.”

Draco’s expression became serious. “Well, I’m in luck, then. Because we need to talk about _it_.”

Kit’s face went involuntarily pale. “Oh. Alright— where are we meeting, then?”

“Room of Requirement. I want to grab a shower though, I smell like rat dung. Mind waiting for me?”

“Not at all,” she answered as they went inside. “I’ll just sit here for a bit.” She flopped onto the couch. “Two Slytherin prefects are on patrol tonight, so I think we should be safe if we go and come back late.”

“Even better,” said Draco before dashing off down the hallway to the boys’ dormitories.

She didn’t have to wait that long. Usually, she took nearly half an hour showering because of her lengthy routine for washing her hair and making sure it wouldn’t poof out too much when dry. Draco was back within ten minutes, dressed and with his hair styled neatly.

“Damn, what do you boys do, just run the soap over yourselves once and call it a day?” she teased as they walked out of the Common Room.

Draco shook his head. “No, we don’t even use soap. Whatever shampoo drips down from our heads will just be rubbed in.”

She knew he was joking, but she scrunched her nose up. “You should donate all that unused soap to orphans or something.”

“What makes you think orphans use soap? They’re not weird like you.”

“So I’m ‘weird’ because I use _soap_?”

“Yes, you very much are.”

When they reached the Room of Requirement, they found it messier than ever. Draco didn’t look surprised— clearly this was what he wanted. But Kit was in shock, considering how wide she could remember the room being from when they had held DA meetings.

“Every student who has ever wanted to hide something has hidden it here,” said Draco. “Found it in an obscure book at the Manor in the summer. There are some important trinkets in here, and some that are just silly. But the most important thing to us is this Vanishing Cabinet.”

He led Kit to the cabinet, which looked broken and rather old. “I dunno if you remember, but Peeves dropped this above Filch’s office in our second year.”

“Yes, I do remember,” she mused as she examined the broken hinges. “Harry told me about it. He got Nearly Headless Nick to persuade Peeves into doing it so that he could get Harry out of trouble.”

“And,” continued Draco as she kept looking over it, “last year, the Weasley twins shoved Montague headfirst into this. It nearly killed him when he came back because it was broken, and he was stuck in some sort of limbo that practically drove him mad.”

Kit winced. “That’s terrible. But what’s this have to do with us?”

“The brother of this Vanishing Cabinet is in Borgin and Burke’s,” said Draco, leaning back onto a nearby table. “Last year, Montague managed to tell me about this cabinet, and when I was given my task this summer, I realized this may be the only way to send and receive things from outside Hogwarts without being detected. Filch has been running his grubby hands through everything and everyone upon arrival— you remember how we were briefly searched when we got here?”

“Er, yeah— they sort of just ran that thing over the length of our bodies.”

“This will be the key to receiving anything that we need, but in the far future. Borgin insisted he wanted me to bring this into the shop but that wasn’t going to be possible, so instead, he gave me instructions on how to fix it. I have a package waiting for me in the shop that I want to use to get Dumbledore killed. It’s this— this opal necklace that can kill whoever touches it. This cabinet is going to take a lot of time to be repaired, but we have the spell we need to do it. We won't be able to use it anytime soon, so we will have to find a way to pick up the package from Borgin by the first Hogsmeade visit.”

“What’re you planning to do that day?” she inquired a bit timidly. “Why that particular agenda?”

“Almost everyone will be gone from the school, and we’ll have some freedom to move around. This… is kind of where I need you.” He bit his lip. “We need someone to give the necklace to Dumbledore, right? I’ve been thinking and I think the best way to do it will be to Imperius someone to do it for us. That way, they will actually be innocent and no one but Dumbledore needs to get hurt. There will be traces of the curse on them that will absolve them of any part in it, which can keep our identities under wraps too and keep us from telling too many people.”

Kit’s stomach did a flip. “Oh… and you want me to do it because… my family’s naturally gifted with those sorts of spells.”

Draco cast her a pained look. “Exactly.”


	69. Chapter 69

**Oftentimes, Kit really wished she wasn’t born.**

This was one of those many times. 

She had agreed to his vague plan for the moment, and they had spent the rest of the night starting their work on the Vanishing Cabinet. They had started to fix it manually, adjusting the doors and finding utensils all over the room to tighten and straighten out the hinges. Once it looked somewhat more put together, they’d done a series of regular mending spells that helped to solidify its shape and make it at least look functional, were it not for the fact that it was much more complicated than that.

“Repeat after me,” said Draco within two hours once they’d fixed as much as they could on the outside. “ _Harmonia Nectere Passus_.”

Kit mimicked him, pointing her wand alongside his toward the inside of the cabinet. “ _Harmonia Nectere Passus_.”

Slowly and steadily, they kept repeating the spell until they felt quite physically drained. It was a complex process that was quite literally diminishing their strength, all in the attempt to fix the stupid cabinet, which was simply being stubborn.

“Borgin says it’ll take a while of just casting the spell as often as we can,” said Draco tiredly. “Eventually in a few months, we can try and send him something, and if we get something in return, we’ll know it’s starting to work— but we have to start small and build up.”

He leaned against the door before opening it. “Another truth I should tell you about. My aunt Bellatrix trained me this summer.”

“What?” Kit gasped. “But isn’t she hiding about with my father and sister?”

“Not for most of the summer. She stayed at Malfoy Manor whenever it wasn’t being searched. She worked with me to help me master nonverbal spells, Occlumency, and the three Unforgivables.”

Kit raised her eyebrows. “Oh, wow. So you already knew nonverbal spells that day in Defense.”

He nodded. “I… I will teach you to cast the Imperius Curse when needed. I can do it pretty well, but I’m certain you will be better at it. If not, then I will take that part of the plan.” 

They stepped out of the Room of Requirement, and Draco put his arm around Kit, holding her up, as the both were looking like they desperately needed sleep. “Want me to walk you to your Common Room?” he asked gently. “For old times’ sake?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she lied quickly. “I’m going to talk to Hermione about what happened at Slug Club just so I know whether to suck it up and go next time or not. I feel sort of bad skiving it off.”

Draco nodded, not thinking anything of it. He pulled her close and pressed his lips against hers momentarily. “Good night,” he said gently. “I’ll see you.”

They parted ways, and Kit made sure to actually head to Gryffindor Tower first, so she wouldn’t seem suspicious in case for some reason they came across each other again. However, from there, she took her time going down to the dungeons.

Snape was going to have to be the person she needed him to be.

She knew Harry had had detention that evening with Snape, meaning Snape might probably be in a good enough mood to hear her out.

“Um, Professor?” said Kit quietly as she knocked on the door. “Hello?”

With his usual menacing look, he opened the door and glared down at her. “Thompson,” he said blandly. “What do you want?”

“To talk,” she said a bit meekly. “Please? About one of your… students.”

Snape stepped back to let her in, and she darted into the room. Wringing her hands together, she kept her eyes downcast. How the hell was she supposed to act about this? How was one even meant to bring such a thing up?

“I suggest you begin speaking within the next five seconds,” he drawled when she didn’t immediately start talking. “I do not like to have my time wasted.”

“Well, there’s this um, organization,” she started awkwardly. “That my… parents were in, as well as the parents of one of your students. It’s an organization you might be familiar with…”

Snape looked like he might murder her, his nostrils flaring. “Choose your next words very carefully,” he whispered in a deadly tone.

Kit swallowed the lump in her throat. “This organization has… asked your student to do something very bad. And I wanted to ask if you knew of it.”

The expression in his face changed dramatically, from anger to understanding. He must have thought she was trying to bait him into admitting aloud he was a Death Eater or something. “This student,” he mused, “is one of your… _close_ associates?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Close enough that I… am offering my moral support.”

Back to anger. “Idiot girl,” he spat. “Am I to believe you were foolish enough to try and enlist?”

“No!” she shrieked. “No— oh Merlin no— I mean, well, I did greatly consider it, but Draco was adamant about not letting me do it— I just— I’m going to be there for him while he’s doing his obligation! I’m— I’m helping secretly.”

“You believe such a thing will remain secret from the Dark Lord?” he snarled. “Have you learned nothing in the past two years? Do you really believe that the only reason Barty Crouch’s idiotic son targeted you was because of your parents? Think, Katherine, _think_! The Dark Lord has kept his eye on you ever since your engagement to Draco was announced! Tabs have been kept on you by Dolores Umbridge— even your own father! Haven’t you ever wondered why he did not disown you in your first year? You are a useful potential weapon! You’ve inherited the Thompson abilities that make you of use, if only your father could have swayed you earlier! Just because you do not live with him doesn’t mean you aren’t being watched! Draco tried to push you away for a reason!”

“And I didn’t let him!” she hissed. “I’m not going to do the bloody murder so obviously— I’m just offering some help! He needs it! Emotional support more than anything! Spellwork, yes, but I’m only doing it to protect him and his mother! I’m not going to get any more involved than that, I swear it.”

Snape let an exasperated sigh. “You Thompsons are the most stubborn breed of people I have ever managed to meet. You’re just like your sister, always insisting on shoving her nose where it didn’t belong because she thought it was the right thing to do, all for the sake of the disgusting Sirius Black!”

“Don’t talk trash about my sister,” snarled Kit back at him. “I only came to see if you knew, and clearly you do. I just— I wanted an adult to be aware, at least! I didn’t come for your criticism! I’m helping him whether you like it or not!”

He seized her wrist and yanked her out the door instead of answering, and when she tried to speak, he held his finger up to his own lips to silence her. He dragged her the entire way to Dumbledore’s office, which made her heart beat faster. 

“Acid Pops,” drawled Snape impatiently as he pulled her in, where they found Dumbledore looking like he had just arrived from some sort of trip.

“Severus,” said Dumbledore in surprise as he looked down at Kit. “Miss Thompson.”

“She knows,” said Snape as the door shut behind them. “She knows and she is helping him, and considering that a brat like this one won’t back down, I suppose she ought to know the truth.”

“The truth about what?” hissed Kit as Dumbledore gazed over her, his eyes twinkling. 

“Please, Kit, sit,” said Dumbledore, beckoning to the chair in front of his desk. When she sat, he went to stand beside her. “I knew that you would become involved in this, no matter how much Draco attempted to dissuade you.”

“How do _you_ know about this?” she said incredulously. 

Dumbledore cast her a smile. “I was informed soon after the task was granted to Draco. Severus remains loyal to me, and we have formulated a plan revolving around this.”

“You— you’re not going to kill Draco, are you?” 

“No, certainly not. In fact, this is more than facilitated with your involvement. You see, I believe that Lord Voldemort never intended to have this redeem the Malfoys, as he has suggested. He knows that Draco will likely not succeed, and he intended to watch him fail to have an excuse to kill both him and Narcissa.”

Kit swayed in her seat as Dumbledore sat down across from her, and Snape beside her. “Narcissa, of course, understood that this was quite dangerous for her son,” continued Dumbledore. “Thus, Severus was asked to watch over Draco and protect him from harm. Draco has pushed him away without much thought, but you, he has latched onto. He knows he cannot keep you from being involved, and instead he has embraced it.”

“Are you saying that you— you want me to keep helping him?” inquired Kit. “This is all okay with you?”

“The last thing I want is for Draco to be destroyed by this, simply for his father’s sins. You clearly saw that he withdrew as a prefect and intended to stop playing Quidditch as well. A task like this on such a young mind will wreak terror and destruction on his psyche. This would have manifested into health problems, and he might have lost his will to live before Voldemort even attempted to kill him for his inevitable failure.”

“You keep discussing failure— are you that certain he’ll fail?” said Kit quietly. “I know that neither Draco or I will be able to come up with a good enough plan to succeed but—”

“Not to worry, Kit,” said Dumbledore gently. “He will fail, but he will not be harmed. You have my word. Severus is going to take care of it. For now, we ask that you continue to help. I know that you understand exactly what you are getting yourself into. This is dangerous, Kit, and yet, you are resilient and insistent on remaining involved. If you wish to proceed, then we will entrust you with this secret.”

Kit ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “Why did you decide to trust me with this? I didn’t— I didn’t think that you both had some huge plan for this already. I just thought someone should know what was going on.”

Dumbledore smiled. “ _That_ is why. Because you are selfless and attempting to help him, but you have not abandoned logic, and did the wise thing to take the risk of telling Severus to be safe. There are many things that I cannot explain, and that are generally difficult to understand. But, I have full faith that you will be the key to keeping Draco from losing his mind. Lord Voldemort is merciless, and if my death is what he wants, I will not allow him to use this ploy as an opportunity to harm someone so young and innocent. Therefore, all we ask is a promise. That you will speak of this to no one. You simply needed to understand that this is much greater than whatever Draco is aware of. He cannot know. You need to be what he clings to in order to remain human, to keep his morals. He is stuck in a terrible situation that we must simply work around. Keep helping him. I suggest you let him come up with the ideas— adding your own flair for his sake might lead to your part in this to be exposed, and the last thing the Order wants is to draw your father out prematurely when we are still attempting to determine how to regain your sister’s control of her own body.”

Kit nodded slowly. “Alright. Alright… should I assume that any research I find regarding my sister should be run through you, too? So far, I was just planning to encode a letter to Alastor whenever I found anything. I haven’t had time to investigate just yet.”

Dumbledore nodded. “I would prefer that any letter you send to Alastor be given to me first, so that I may deliver it personally. There will be less of a chance of it falling into the wrong hands, and it will help me be in the know, as I will be working with the Order separately on how to retrieve Alana when a solution is found.”

The Ravenclaw squirmed a bit in her seat. Snape was oddly calm through all this, and a million thoughts were coursing through her head. “I’m… I’m in, then,” she said softly. “I’ll go through with this. You’re not going to um— make me do an Unbreakable Vow or something?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “No, I do not believe that it is necessary. I believe you are trustworthy enough. However, I will ask if I may cast a charm to keep this hidden within your mind. If any Death Eater were to get their hands on you, it would be very dangerous if they learned about this plan. This way, additionally, there is less of a chance of Draco finding out. It will not hurt.”

Kit conceded, and moved to stand closer to Dumbledore, who simply tapped his wand over her forehead. She felt a bit of a tingle all over, as if he was rewiring her brain ever so slightly. “You are dismissed, Miss Thompson,” said Dumbledore kindly. “I am appreciative of your support. Draco is quite lucky to have a friend like you.”

**_**

And so the plan kept unfolding.

Kit had made sure not to say anything, which wasn’t as hard as she thought it might be. In fact, it made her be a bit more positive whenever she and Draco reunited to work on the Vanishing Cabinet.

“Where on Earth do you and Draco keep disappearing to?” said Su after the third time that Kit came to the dormitories past curfew from the Room of Requirement. “No one can find you both for the longest time! You disappear right after practice and whenever you come back, you’re all red in the face.

The redness was literally just from that stupid spell. Draco and Kit were left so weak after several rounds of the spell, and yet, it was necessary to do it often for a few months to see if it worked. It was pulling their energy out to fix the cabinet magically, which while simple, was downright exhausting. 

Su hadn’t even let Kit answer. “Bloody hell!” she shrieked as though she’d discovered a cure for every ailment in the world. “You’ve shagged!”

Kit wanted to say no, to be truthful for once, considering how often she was lying lately. But it worked in their favor if her friends thought that she and Draco were sneaking off to sleep together. It would diminish any suspicion that they were doing other, more terrible things.

Su had burst into a fit of giggles when Kit had nodded slowly. “Tell me, tell me!” she squealed excitedly. “What’s it like?”

Well, fuck. Kit didn’t actually know. “Er, that’s a little personal,” she said quietly. “But it’s not… bad, you know? Different for everyone, I think…”

The girl beside her started to giggle again. “You’re so grown up. I haven’t even kissed Ron on the lips yet…”

“Get to that,” urged Kit. “Besides, it’s not as bad as Blaise and Hermione. I don’t even think they’ve done cheek kisses. At least you and Ron are flirting constantly.”

“Should I ask him out?” asked Su, pulling her pillow into his chest. “I don’t think he’s going to ask me.”

“Sure, fuck the patriarchy,” Kit responded with a shrug. “Just ask him. There is no way he’ll say no.”

Su thought it over, and nodded slowly. “Soon, then,” she said. “Soon… oh! Hogsmeade! I can ask him if he wants to go on a date at the Three Broomsticks. Maybe… oh! I’ll tell Hermione to tell Blaise to go with her… then Harry can invite someone… it can be like a triple date so it’s like— it counts as a date but it’s not so isolated! That way we can ease into a more private one-on-one date, you know?”

“Sure, that sounds fun,” she said, half smiling, since the mention of the Hogsmeade date was worrying to her. It was drawing closer and closer…

Draco had been teaching her the Imperius spell, but Kit hadn’t yet practiced it on anyone. Draco had been considering snatching up some first year to try it on, but Kit had refused, and one evening, he’d made a very bold statement.

“Practice on me,” he said bluntly. “I’ll be able to tell if you’re good at it or not.”

Kit blinked. “What if I damage your mind?”

“Just try it. Come on.”

Swallowing hard, she’d pointed her wand at him. “ _Imperio_!”

The spell had hit him, and he’d gotten a dreamy look about him. Thinking hard, she moved her wand as needed, and within seconds, she had him trying to tap dance.

She changed her command after awhile. With just her concentration, she got him to stop dancing and instead, try to walk on his hands, which he was able to do surprisingly well.

“I think you’ve got the hang of it,” he said proudly when she let it up. “If… if you’re willing, I think you should be the one to do it on Rosmerta. It felt just like when my aunt did the curse on me— you’re good at it, Kit. Naturally good at it.”

Kit had conceded. A few days before the packaged was scheduled to be delivered, Kit and Draco had snuck out while she was meant to be on prefect duty, following the passageway behind the one-eyed witch’s statue on the third floor. Creeping quickly in and coming out inside Honeydukes, they’d snuck into the village with dark cloaks and gone to the Three Broomsticks. A faint light was emitting, and they could see it was empty except for Madam Rosmerta.

“Remember, she can’t see you,” whispered Draco. “There— an open window.”

He had cast a silencing charm just before they crept up to the open window, which was behind where Madam Rosmerta was washing several of her glasses, and humming a song to herself quietly.

Kit raised her wand under the tilted pane, and pointed it at her, quietly murmuring the spell. It hit, and the woman got a dazed look about her, though she started to wash her glasses again, per Kit’s orders. ‘ _Keep doing your job as usual_ ,’ she thought, with all the concentration she could muster. ‘ _Don’t do anything out of the ordinary. The day before we’re allowed to come to Hogsmeade, at eight o’clock, you will meet someone named Borgin at the edge of Hogsmeade. He will have a package for you. Bring a shawl to wrap it in, and be very careful not to touch what is inside. Hide it, and save it. When the students are in Hogsmeade, go into the bathroom when it is deserted, and corner any girl who goes in alone. Imperius her to deliver the package to Filch, telling him to take it to Dumbledore so it goes past the Secrecy Sensors. Make sure no one sees you. Await further instructions_.’

It seemed to have worked, and Kit let out a shaky sigh as Draco pulled her quickly back to Honeydukes, where they dove back through the passageway without being seen.

Kit had followed through with exactly what Draco had told her to say. As Dumbledore had told her, she hadn’t made any suggestions. Though she felt afraid, she did not voice it, and simply clutched Draco’s hand tightly as they made their way to Ravenclaw Tower for him to drop her off for the night.

“Thank you for this,” he whispered. “You’re the only reason I haven’t already lost it. It helps more than you know.”

She offered him a kind smile in return. “Of course, Draco. Anything for you. Now— this other part of the plan. You took care of it?”

“Yep,” he told her. “I purposely didn’t turn in two assignments so that McGonagall will give me detention— I won’t get to go to Hogsmeade. I suggest you don’t go either. You could… maybe hang out with one of the Professors for an alibi. Take the time to do some research about your sister, perhaps. It’ll ensure that neither of us are suspected of anything.”

Kit nodded. “I wasn’t planning to go. I’ll take the time to research… maybe Flitwick wouldn’t mind my company for a bit, just for an alibi.”

On the day of the Hogsmeade visit, it all went into motion. Draco had gone to detention just as everyone was leaving, and Kit had gone to Flitwick. She’d offered her help cleaning the classroom at first, telling him she hadn’t really felt like going to Hogsmeade after what’d happened in the summer. He’d been very kind and offered her some Sugar Mice as a snack, and bade her farewell after her help. Kit had then gone to the Ravenclaw Common Room, sitting nearby Eddie Carmichael, who was studying for some upcoming quiz or test. She’d laid out her research on the table in front of her and worked diligently for hours, making notes and putting things together.

So far, her theory was making some sense. What they knew currently was that Alison’s brain had not been able to fight against the mind control because Kenneth intentionally made it so her brain could not develop, meaning it’d never learn to fight. Kit was predicting that Kenneth had made a different variation with Alana— the curse had instead, developed with her brain, which had changed her into believing that she was actually evil, when she wasn’t.

Kit just needed to find enough research to support it, and find some basis to thoroughly explain her thoughts. From there, she’d be able to show Dumbledore and Alastor what they needed in order so that more advanced witches and wizards could find the countercurse that’d snap Alana out of her father’s control. 

She’d been just about to put her research away for the time being when Su ran in, breathless and very pale. “Kit!” she cried shakily. “Kit— oh Merlin— you won’t believe what happened!”

Kit shot up. “Are you okay? Is Ron okay? What— what happened?”

Su yanked her off to the side, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Katie Bell from Gryffindor got cursed!” she said. “We saw it— her body was all levitated in the air— she touched some cursed necklace!”

Kit’s face drained of all color, but Su didn’t suspect a thing. “Thank Merlin you weren’t there to see it— it was the scariest thing I’ve ever witnessed… she was acting all dazed and she and her friend Leanne were arguing because Katie came out of the bathroom at the Three Broomsticks with a package—” she pulled her into a hug, making Kit squeak. “I’m so glad you weren’t there! It could have been you, or any of us!”

Kit hadn't been ready for the guilt that would come with any collateral damage.


	70. Chapter 70

**As soon as Su went to tell the girls upstairs, Kit sprinted to find Draco.**

He was in the Slytherin Common Room, and he clearly had no idea what had happened.

“Kit,” he said brightly, though there was an anxious undertone in his voice. “How was it with Flitwick?”

“It was fine, he gave me Sugar Mice,” she answered hurriedly. “Can we talk? Please?”

He noticed immediately that something was wrong. He sprang up and followed her out, and they remained silent, side by side, until they reached the Room of Requirement.

“We fucked up,” murmured Kit shakily when he closed the door. “Katie Bell touched the bloody necklace!”

Draco went very pale. “W-What? Is s-she?”

“She’s alive but she’s not doing well— she’s in the Hospital Wing now.”

He grasped his temples. “But— but how did it go wrong? We— we took every precaution—”

“Su told me that they saw it happen— Rosmerta must have given Katie the package but Katie’s friend Leanne noticed that something was off. They were arguing and somehow, the package ripped!”

“Fuck,” hissed Draco, staggering back into the wall. “Fuck— fuck— FUCK!”

He grabbed the nearest thing— a lopsided vase atop a stack of books— and threw it across the room. It shattered, and he let out another frustrated groan, hitting himself in the head.

“Draco,” said Kit fearfully, her voice small. “Draco— please, don’t…”

But he couldn't control it. He couldn’t suppress the anger and paranoia that was flooding into his mind. His natural instinct was to get it out violently— to break and ruin anything in sight until he felt some sort of grasp on reality, some sort of authority over his mess of a life. He swiped his hands across the nearest table, sending books and knick knacks clattering to the floor, pages folding all over the place and some materials breaking or cracking.

“DRACO!” Kit cried, though she was scared to get close to him. “Draco— breathe— stop it, _please_!”

The terrified look on her face was what made him falter, which led to him stopping. It was the same fear that he’d seen in her face the day her father had tortured her. He could imagine it was the same fear that she’d felt when she had to watch her mother die.

He sank to the floor and sat onto his hands, keeping them from doing anything else. She came down beside him, though not touching him yet. “This… this isn’t our fault,” whispered Kit. “It… it isn’t…”

But it certainly felt like it was. Kit felt helpless. She wasn’t supposed to let anyone get hurt. How could she have been so stupid? There should have been more nitpicking to keep anyone else from getting hurt. She should have done something— anything else to stop it from happening.

When Kit had started to cry, Draco hadn’t been able to hold his own tears in. She looked so vulnerable and frustrated, and she covered her face so that he wouldn’t see, feeling ashamed of her own incompetence. He’d released his hands in order to remove hers, looking her in the eyes so that she could see that he was crying as well. He’d pulled her into his arms and cradled her as gently as he could, listening to her sob uncontrollably. He couldn’t imagine how she must feel. She wasn’t meant to get involved in this, and now someone she knew— someone who she’d spoken to on occasion and befriended a bit, was hurt, and could have actually lost their life. 

“I’m sorry,” said Draco hoarsely in a moment where she wasn’t sobbing quite so loudly. “I’m sorry— this is my fault— if you don’t want to do this anymore… I-I get it—”

She cut him off by pulling away and glaring at him. “Don’t,” she said shakily. “Don’t— don’t try and push me away because things went wrong. We— we’re not done. That’s strike one and we j-just need to be better next time. I’m not leaving you.”

“Kit, this is only going to get worse,” he tried to insist. “You shouldn’t have to suffer like this— this guilt will destroy you!”

“And what’ll it do to you, hmm?” she demanded. “If you were in this alone, you’d become a broken man. You’d practically have no humanity by the end of it. So no, I’m not going to dare leave you alone in this. I’m in this for the long run. If you have a problem with it, suck it the fuck up.”

He admired her tenacity. But she was unbelievably obstinate, and it was a wonder the two could even tolerate each other, considering he could be similar, just with more of a temperamental component to him. 

They had forced themselves to compose their mood rather quickly. They cleaned their faces and walked back to the Slytherin Common Room holding hands, both breathless from all their crying, though it made it seem like they’d just gone off to snog.

On the couch were Draco had been sitting earlier was Theodore Nott, his arm around Pansy Parkinson, the two deep in conversation with Millicent Bulstrode, who was on the opposite armchair.

Kit was surprised they didn’t glare at her. They just didn’t really acknowledge her presence until Draco pulled her to sit on the couch with him.

“When are you two _not_ snogging?” murmured Millicent as she glanced at them. 

“Only in class, Bulstrode,” said Draco casually, moving to lay on Kit’s lap. “Have to focus with all the bloody work we have to do.”

“I hate McGonagall,” said Theo nastily. “Rubbing in how I still can’t do nonverbals. That crap isn’t as easy for everyone. I don’t see her hounding that Hufflepuff bastard Macmillan— he can’t do them either!”

“She’s not rubbing it in,” Millicent shot back. “She just mentioned _once_ that you need to try a bit harder.”

Pansy made a face at this. “Still, she said his name very specifically. Rather rude, in my opinion.”

Kit chewed on her lip. She felt rather out of place. She had half a mind to snap at them for talking crap on McGonagall, but she didn’t have the motivation to do it after the bloody cry fest she and Draco had. The three Slytherins were throwing insults like it was a contest, and were not shy about flaunting about the fact they were not doing too well in their courses.

“I would never even have taken Charms if my father hadn’t insisted upon it,” sneered Pansy. “I’m so sick of having my entire curriculum decided by him. Every bloody year it’s the same thing…”

“You should hex him when you turn seventeen,” said Millicent seriously. “After all, you and Theo will be of age and can leave your homes.”

Kit felt a bit like she was snooping, just being there, but the three didn’t care that she was listening. It was becoming more apparent to her, however, how similar of a childhood they’d all had. Beatings and lectures that forced them to accept their parents beliefs and behave accordingly. It seemed none were beat anymore, but their parents controlled their lives and left them without much freedom when they were home. And from how Pansy spoke of her father, Kit had the sinking sensation that he’d hurt her badly enough to leave a permanently damaging scar, which kept them from ever getting along. 

Though Kit would not excuse their cruel behavior, she felt she understood them, and found that the new insight was making her realize that their world was severely messed up. No child should have had to grow up the way the group of them did, and yet, they all could relate to what the others were saying. The system was fucked up.

Later in the evening when it was only Draco and Kit in the Common Room, they lay in each other’s arms in a pensive state, looking at the burning fire, unsure what to say.

“I hate that I’m like this,” muttered Draco. “I hate that I’m a bad person. You and Blaise have done so much to make me better and nothing’s been permanent. Sure, I guess I’m not the same arse I was years ago, but I’m still insufferable. I thought by now I’d have done good enough to really be part of your friend group. And yet, I still can’t stand to be around most of them.”

“Things take time,” Kit whispered gently, stroking his hair. “Go at your own pace. A lot has happened… it’s not your fault.”

“It feels like it is. I could never change as a kid. I wanted to be like you, so accepting, and I just… couldn’t. I don’t know if it was because my home was filled with many dark objects and it left me to grow into a monster, or whatever. I just hate the way I am. I have tried so hard to be a better man for you and I’m not. I don’t know how you can stand to be near me. I don’t treat you the way I should. I make you feel scared of me. I push you away. You deserve someone better.”

She caressed his cheek. “And yet, you’re still the one striving to be better. You’re the one who listens to me and acknowledges me. In your own way, you’ve kept me safe loads of times. Like I said, it will take time. But you’ve shown me that you are trying, and I value that. I care about you just the way you are. You have changed so much and I’m so proud of you. You say Hermione’s name now so easily, when before, you’d only address her by a slur. You’re kind to Su whenever you see her, and you’ve rarely picked a fight with Ron or Harry, considering how often you used to in the past. You are a better man, and I want you.”

It had made him feel better, but there was still a long way to go for him to truly redeem himself.

They tried not to think of the task for awhile. Instead, both focused on their lessons. Draco did better in Transfiguration, and worked even harder to show off his skills to Slughorn. Kit worked diligently on her assignments and tried to be patient when it came to Care of Magical Creatures. So far, she and Blaise had only been learning from the textbook, because Hagrid was still feeling rather depressed. The Gryffindor trio had told them about how Hagrid’s pet Acromantula, Aragog, was dying. The two had offered their help, but Hagrid declined, since the other Acromantulas in the forest were getting restless, and he feared they might not take too kindly to two new faces. 

Katie had been transferred to St. Mungo’s midway into October. The kind of care that she needed was more than what Madam Pomfrey could provide. Though she was nowhere near being dead, it was going to be a slow recovery for her. She was replaced as Gryffindor Chaser by Dean Thomas. This came as a sort of benefit to the other House teams, since now all three of the Gryffindor Chasers were new to the position, and lacked the expertise Katie had brought to the table before. Kit tried to ignore the guilt that plagued her whenever she was at practice with her teammates, who were progressing very well, and would be ready for their first match against Hufflepuff, coming up soon. 

Harry, who had still been having his lessons with Dumbledore, seemed to have suspected Draco had something to do with what happened to Katie. Therefore, on top of worrying about classes, prefect duties, and Quidditch, Kit had to make sure Harry was not given anything that’d confirm his hunch.

“So, where do you and Malfoy go all the time?” he asked curiously. “I um, was peeking at the Marauder’s Map and when you both went up to the seventh floor… you disappeared.”

Clever of him to have been tracking Draco with the map, but bad because now Kit was in the line of fire. She acted casual to avoid any suspicion. “Private stuff, Harry,” she said simply. “You don’t want to know.”

“Yes I do,” he pressed, absolutely certain that Kit would confirm that Draco was up to something. 

Instead she lied, which was her modus operandi at this point. She stopped right in front of him in the hallway, not caring other students might hear. “You know how the room molds into whatever we need it to be?” she hissed. “Well, we’re taking full bloody advantage of it so we can shag without getting caught!”

Harry had obviously not been expecting that, and Kit continued, wanting to make him uncomfortable so that he wouldn’t ask again. “Both of us have the nosiest and stingiest dormmates,” she continued. “With me being a prefect and Quidditch Captain, I can get into a lot of trouble, and if the wrong person finds out, then our fathers can force us to get married by Christmas. Happy with that information, Harry?”

He winced, his cheeks red. “You know what— sorry I asked. Forget that I asked, more like it.”

Kit cast him a cheeky grin. “Good for you. Now, since we’re clearly in a prying mood, what’s the deal with you? Who’ve you taken a fancy to this time? Who’s going to be lucky enough to snog the Chosen One?”

Harry hated being put on the spot, and this would certainly keep him from bugging Kit in the future about her whereabouts. But he didn’t back down, just dropped his voice to a whisper. “You can’t tell anyone,” he said sharply. “If they knew…”

She perked up. “Won’t tell a soul,” she said immediately.

Harry pulled her closer to whisper in her ear. “It’s Ginny.” He pulled back and his face was red. “I don’t know why. I thought— I thought all I felt was brotherly protectiveness, or something! But lately I just— I can’t stop thinking about her. Which… is a problem, because she’s with Dean….”

“Well, she’s bloody gorgeous,” said Kit. “And she’s really good at Quidditch. She’s smart and strong and you’ve been around her long enough to consider her a friend. I know you two have your little inside jokes and all that. It makes sense to me. Are you worried Ron will lose his marbles about it?”

Harry nodded. “He got mad about how we caught Dean and Ginny snogging the other day. She made him feel quite self-conscious when she pointed out he hasn’t had the gall to snog Su yet even though she’s clearly been interested in him for the past year. I don’t want him to get mad at me.”

“You’re free to fancy whoever you wish, Harry. It’s not like he’s explicitly told you that he really doesn’t want you to have anything to do with his sister, you know. You’re free to do as you please. If anything… maybe talk to him about it.”

“We’ll see,” said Harry shyly. “It’s not like I can do much. Ginny’s got a boyfriend and I’m sure she doesn’t see me that way.”

Kit wanted to smack him upside the head. Ginny had been on and off head over heels for Harry ever since she met him!

But instead, she patted his shoulder. “You won’t know the truth unless you ask questions, hmm?”

Kit was glad that Harry seemed pleased with her advice, even though it had sucked. At the moment, he still couldn’t do much, considering the fact that now, Dean and Ginny were getting even more time with each other on the Quidditch pitch. Kit didn’t know too much about Dean, but they didn’t seem like a bad couple. However, she definitely wanted to see Harry and Ginny together at some point.

The first Quidditch match of the season rolled around with Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Kit was a bit afraid of how it might go, considering how nervous Ron was leading up to it, but it had gone rather well. Vaisley, one of the Slytherin Chasers had been off sick, and this year, the Keeper was supposedly downright horrible. It’d been a good match, intense and succinct for the most part, but Kit had mostly been taking notes on the players’ skills, and hadn’t tuned in much to what the score was. Harry caught the Snitch and Gryffindor won, which made for a very important note regarding how Cho needed to practice if she intended to do better than Harry when they played Gryffindor.

Kit hadn’t gone to the afterparty, but she had walked down with Su to congratulate Ron in the field. To her surprise, Su had grasped his face and kissed him full on the lips, which she supposed must have made the celebration fun afterwards. Kit herself had gone over to where Blaise and Draco looked pretty glum, and they’d spent the rest of the day sneaking food from the kitchens and letting their bellies feel comfortably full.

The next match had been Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff. Kit had done as much as she could to train and strategize and prepare her teammates until they were all ready to beat off Hufflepuff’s pants. It had gone very well. Orla had been the star of the day, scoring four goals with assists from Su and Kit, and Stewart had done a very good job of keeping Hufflepuff from scoring. Cho had caught the Snitch, and they’d had a grand time celebrating right after the match, with cauldron cakes courtesy of the house elves (snatched from the kitchens by Michael and Kevin, who were pleased to have hit Zacharias Smith with a Bludger).

She’d arrived at the Slytherin Common Room the following night, still elated from her first victory as Captain. But upon seeing Draco, her mind had gone to a very different place. 

Post-shower, smelling like mint, and completely shirtless, he was laying on the couch with just his pajama pants on. It surprised Kit, considering that winter was already nearing.

“Hey,” he said cheerfully, not yet noticing how much she was staring. “How was your day?”

“It was fine,” she said, trying to avert her eyes. Toned, muscular, fit, hot— all words that could be used to describe how he looked in that moment. She was practically drooling.

“You look a bit red, are you feeling sick?” he asked in concern.

“Sick?” she said, bewildered. “Me? No. Not at all.”

“You’re sure? You’re rather flushed…” At that point, he knew exactly what was going on. He wasn’t stupid, after all. He caught her face in his hands and tilted her to look up at him. “Or… is someone a little flustered?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” she answered quickly. “You’re… a bit delusional, Draco.”

_A/N - Slight steaminess warning because y’all asked for it._

“I don’t think I am, Kit Kat,” he said, tracing his thumb over her lips as he kept holding her face. “You were staring. You’re not good at being casual, you know.”

“F-Fine, I was staring,” she said meekly. “Let me go now?”

“Do you really want me to let you go?” he inquired in a low voice. 

She shivered and shook her head immediately. “N-Not really…”

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, smirking when she closed her eyes. “Use your words.”

Well, that proved to be difficult, considering he was making her tremble enough to forget every English word she’d ever learned. 

“Aw,” he said teasingly. “Have I left you at a loss for words, Kit Kat? I guess I just have that effect on you… you can’t resist me.”

“Kiss me,” she blurted out. “Kiss me— please.”

She said it so desperately that he almost conceded right away. Instead, he put one of his hands around her neck. “Open your eyes,” he demanded. When she did, she saw he was smirking more devilishly than before. “ _Beg_.”

Why was he doing this to her? She whined internally and squirmed in his grasp. “W-Why should I?” she asked impatiently, trying to lean in and kiss him. He held her back by her throat.

“Tut, tut,” he chided playfully. “If you’re going to be all bratty then you don’t get any kisses.”

He liked the control he could have over her when he got her all worked up like this. It was only when they were in such a mood that he became more dominant, and she loved it. Normally, she would never back down from a challenge, and would certainly not let anyone command her like that. But with him, in this intimate context, she didn’t mind. She wanted to submit to him, though she wasn’t going to let it happen so easily.

“Why should I beg?” she said, looking up at him, craning her neck to an almost painful angle. “It’s not like your kisses are that good.”

His eyes flashed darkly. “That’s not what I’ve heard you say before, princess,” he said lowly, squeezing her throat ever so slightly. “Let’s try to be honest now.”

Of course, Kit could never hold out for too long. “Oh, fucking hell!” she hissed. “Just kiss me, Draco, don’t make me beg for it like you don’t want it too!”

His lips quirked up in amusement. “See, that wasn’t so hard. I may not be… satisfied with your begging, but I don’t feel like waiting much longer.”

He’d pushed her back onto the couch and slammed his lips onto hers. Her hands flew to his shoulders and she dug her nails into his back purposely, eliciting a groan from him and making him pull her legs up, wrapping them around his waist.

“We’re in the Common Room,” panted Kit when he started to kiss her neck. “S-Someone’s going to see…”

“And is that a problem?” he growled, tracing his tongue over her clavicle and making her grind her hips into his.

“W-What if it’s Snape?” she moaned. 

He squeezed her side at that, and growled yet again. “Don’t you dare moan our Professor’s name right now. If the name coming out of your lips isn’t mine, then I don’t want to hear anything but incoherent noises.”

Even though they’d done nothing but snog and grope each other that night, desiring more but knowing that it wasn’t yet the time for that, Kit had certainly made enough incoherent noises to keep him more than pleased, moaning his name only when he slipped his hand up her shirt, and making him moan hers when she slid her hand down his pants.

_How was that for steaminess? ;) Happy 800 pages!_


	71. Chapter 71

**Christmas rolled around, and Kit was very pleased to see that her friends were making big moves.**

Ever since Su had kissed Ron after his Quidditch match, the two had practically been inseparable. They were partnered together in most lessons, and Kit had already caught them snogging twice behind one of the statues on the fourth floor. As Slughorn’s Christmas party neared, Ron became less and less concerned with the fact he wasn’t invited, and more concerned with what he and Su were going to do while everyone was gone.

“I think he’s planning a date on the Quidditch pitch,” said Su dreamily. “I think I’m going to ask him to be my boyfriend, too, if it goes well… I mean, the labels aren’t important— you and Draco haven’t made yourselves official and everyone knows about you both already—”

“Not that many people know,” said Kit. “Sure, all of Slytherin and Ravenclaw House do, but there’s bound to be several oblivious souls who could care less.”

“Well, if you want to get technical, I can’t stop you. You’re very bad at being secretive. Lots of people know about you both shagging. A lot of girls are quite jealous.”

“Of me?” said Kit in disbelief. “Oh, come on, they don’t know him well enough to desire him like that.”

Su smirked. “I never said they were jealous of _you_. You have lots of admirers too, Kit.”

“I do not. Draco and Cedric were the only males who ever fancied me. I don’t mind girls, of course, but I’m quite committed to Draco. He’d need to die for me to ever move on.”

“Well, if he does die, you should go for a girl next,” suggested Su. “Trust me, you’ll do very well in the field.”

At least, the impending Christmas Party was something to look forward to. It would certainly be helpful in order for Kit and Draco to keep up the ruse that they were shacking up together, since she’d invited him in hopes of getting his mind off of the task, and how to improve their next attempt on Dumbledore’s life.

“You haven’t even been to any Slug Club meetings this whole term,” he grumbled. “Do we really have to go?”

“It’d be rude not to. I can always invite Su to go with me if you don’t want to.”

“No, I mean— I do want to, just— that whole cult thing you mentioned…”

“I hate the club, but a party is a party, isn’t it? We haven’t been to Hogsmeade at all, and we need something to remind us that we’re human, Draco! Pretty please?”

She’d made puppy eyes at him and he’d groaned, unable to resist. “Fine. _Fine_. But I’m picking what you’re wearing.”

The day before the party had been rather exciting. Kit had found out that Blaise had asked Hermione to be his date, and Harry had asked Luna to be his (as friends). 

“Hermione and I were going to bring Ron and Su with us as our plus ones,” said Blaise happily as he told Kit about it. “So that they could attend too. But then Ron told Su that he wanted them to have a date that night so I just asked Hermione instead.”

“And what’s your plan?” inquired Kit curiously. 

Blaise took out a small box, and Kit’s eyes widened, though she calmed down when she saw it was a necklace. “Think she’ll like it? Mum sent it over for me to give to her— it used to be hers, and she thinks it’d be something sweet to pass on. I’m telling you— she and Andrea are really intent on Hermione and I getting together.”

“Blaise, it’s beautiful,” sighed Kit. “Are you going to ask her to be your girlfriend?”

He nodded, a wide grin on his face. “Yep. Think she’ll say yes?”

“She’d better!” squealed Kit, pulling him into a hug. “Aw, I’m so happy for you! Dibs on naming your kid after me. Pretty please!”

Blaise chuckled. “Sure. Katherine Alana Granger-Zabini, if you want. I’m sure Hermione won’t object.”

At eight o’clock, each pair headed to Slughorn’s office, where the sounds of laughter, music, and loud conversation could be heard from the nearby marble staircase.

By the time Draco and Kit had arrived, he in his formal dress robes, and she in a gorgeous green satin dress he’d bought for her, the party was in full swing.

Slughorn’s office was much larger than the usual teacher’s study. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson, and gold hangings, so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the center of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light. Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing, so that they looked like little roving tables.

“Miss Thompson!” said Slughorn happily as they squeezed through the door. “Come in, come in! And Mr. Malfoy, of course. I remember your grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy. I was so sorry to hear of his death a few years back… of course, dragon pox at his age…”

Draco half-smiled. “Good evening, Professor,” he said, his arm looped protectively around Kit’s waist. “It’s a pleasure to see you.”

Slughorn had patted his shoulder and passed him along. “Harry, m’boy!” he said, and Kit peeked back to see Harry and Luna had arrived behind them. Luna looked positively delighted, wearing a set of spangled silver robes. “So many people I’d like you to meet!”

He had pulled Harry and Luna closer, and had apparently decided to pull Kit and Draco along as well, because his other arm grasped Kit’s wrist and yanked her along. Draco and Harry shared the usual cold stare, but said nothing. 

“Hello, Kit,” said Luna dreamily. “Your dress is very nice.”

“Your robes are spectacular,” Kit replied. “I really like them.”

“Do you?” she asked happily. “Several girls were laughing before.”

“Bah, their fashion sense is trash, that’s why. You look lovely, as usual.”

Slughorn brought them to a halt in front of a small, stout, bespectacled man and a tall and emaciated man who looked rather bored. “I’d like you all to meet Eldred Worple, an old student of mine, author of _Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires_ — and, of course, his friend Sanguini.”

Ah, so Sanguini was the vampire that was meant to show up tonight. Kit beamed down at Worple. “Pleasure to meet you,” she said. “I’ve read your book— very interesting!”

“Glad you think so, my dear!” he said kindly, shaking her hand, then Draco’s, then Luna’s, and finally settling onto Harry. “Harry Potter, I am simply delighted! I was saying to Professor Slughorn only the other day, ‘Where is the biography of Harry Potter for which we have all been waiting?’“

“Er,” said Harry, “were you?”

“Just as modest as Horace described!” said Worple. “But seriously, I would be delighted to write it myself— people are craving to know more about you, dear boy, craving! If you were prepared to grant me a few interviews, say in four- or five-hour sessions, why, we could have the book finished within months. And all with very little effort on your part, I assure you— ask Sanguini here if it isn’t quite— Sanguini, stay here!” added Worple, suddenly stern, for the vampire had been edging toward the nearby group of girls, a rather hungry look in his eye. “Here, have a pasty,” said Worple, seizing one from a passing elf and stuffing it into Sanguini’s hand before turning his attention back to Harry. “My dear boy, the gold you could make, you have no idea—”

“I’m definitely not interested,” said Harry firmly, “and I’ve just seen a friend of mine, sorry.” He pulled Luna into the crowd, and Worple was left looking rather downcast.

“It was very lovely to meet you,” said Kit politely before Draco managed to pull her away.

“There are way too many people in here,” mused Draco. He tiptoed to try and catch a glimpse of Blaise. “Where are they…”

“Here!” They turned to see Blaise pulling Hermione through the crowd. “Hey, I was wondering when you’d shown up.”

“Are you insane?” said Draco. “Why did you even turn up early?”

“Nothing wrong with it, you know,” said Blaise with a shrug. “We got to try some of the pastries before everyone showed up and devoured them.”

“Oh, in that case, maybe we should have come early,” answered Draco thoughtfully.

Hermione cast Kit an amused look, like she couldn’t believe that food was all that drew them to the party.

“Well,” said Kit, “what’s there to do here? No one’s really dancing.”

“It really is only a conversation and food sort of thing,” sighed Hermione. “Not that we mind— we’ve met some very interesting people. One of my favorite authors for Charms books was here, and I got to ask her a few questions.”

Blaise smirked. “A few? You practically interviewed her.”

Hermione blushed. “It’s not every day that one gets to meet their favorite authors.”

“Ah, in the future, I’ll take you to meet literally any author you want,” he said. With the Zabini surname and money, Blaise probably would easily keep that promise. 

Kit rather liked to observe Blaise and Hermione’s interactions. Their affection was sweet and genuine, effortless and without criticism. Ever since Blaise and Hermione had started speaking consistently, Kit’s favorite thing had been to see how he validated every interest and aspiration she had. Hermione had done the same for him, and had been the gentle voice he needed, the acknowledging partner that saw him as Blaise, the fun and caring young man, instead of Blaise, the son of Harriet Zabini. She had not known about his mother’s reputation when she met him, and it was all the more special because she’d grown to care for him without having to know anything associated with his surname.

“Well,” said Blaise, squeezing Hermione’s hand. “We’re going to go dance in a corner over there, near the window. See you.”

They’d left, and Draco had sighed. He and Kit shared a look, and an unspoken agreement passed. This was lame. It was time to leave.

“Can we just see what food they have before we go?” inquired Draco.

“Yes, please.”

They’d swarmed the refreshments table and each snatched up a few of pastries of their choice, tucking them behind their backs as they swept out the door.

“I feel terrible now,” sighed Kit as she bit into some pumpkin pasties. “You bought me this dress and the party was terrible.”

He shrugged. “You can just wear the dress at another formal occasion, if you’d like. It’s not like you’re only allowed to wear it once.”

“Hmm, true. Maybe I’ll wear it to a funeral.”

“Please, wear that at your father’s funeral when he inevitably dies,” said Draco very seriously. 

“Pfft— why would I attend my father’s funeral?”

They’d both laughed, and Draco had put his arm around her, leading her to one of the nearby balconies to look out onto the grounds. They’d sat down behind the railing for safety, just enjoying their treats and each other’s company.

“Kit?” said Draco quietly. 

“Yes?” 

“Do you think this is forever? Do you think… after everything is over… we’re going to be together?”

“Of course, silly. I expect we’ll both buy an apothecary and make a living to support our thirteen dogs.”

“Make it fifteen, I don’t like the number thirteen. Also, might as well make it two apothecaries. The more the merrier.”

“In all seriousness though, I say yes. I like you, Draco. That’s no secret. I want us to be together. Even if we’re not legally engaged anymore, I want a life with you.”

He felt himself blush, and pulled her into his arms, letting her lay back against his chest once they were done with their pastries. “I like you, too. I want us to be official, you know. I just… I’m scared that word will get out and the Death Eaters will find out, and you’ll get hurt. We’ve managed to keep your involvement in the task as secret for now. We’re lucky that everyone’s minds jump to the smutty and not the murder-y when it comes to two people disappearing constantly.”

She sighed and nuzzled back into him. “I want to be official too. Not that labels matter, but it might be nice.”

He laced his fingers with hers. “Maybe we should wait, just a little bit… it doesn’t change our feelings for each other, you know? Being on the safe side might be wiser…”

“True,” she said softly. After all, he was right. She didn’t want to be afraid of the outside world, but the smart thing was certainly to be wary.

She turned to face him, and ran her knuckles down the side of his face. “Kiss me, Draco,” she pleaded. “Please…”

He’d done so without making her beg that time.

**_**

The holidays came, and they all went to their respective homes. 

Blaise had indeed asked Hermione to be his girlfriend that night, and Su had asked Ron to be her boyfriend. Each couple seemed rather happy, and Kit was more than pleased to find out, once she arrived at Grimmauld Place, that Su had been invited to the Burrow for Christmas.

“You’ve all been _quite_ busy,” said Sirius when she updated him on everything that’d happened. “What about you and Malfoy? Not a thing yet?”

She sighed. “No. We decided to play it safe. But we resolved all our issues, which is good.”

“All’s well as long as you’re careful, you know. No point in withholding from your aspirations. Just don’t be clumsy.”

Kit blushed, and Sirius wiggled his eyebrows. “Ah, someone’s getting all frisky. No harm in it, I say, after all, I was quite the player in my time.”

“Oh shut up, you were loyal to my sister,” said Kit. 

“Got me there. Alana was radiant. It was hard not to want a girl like that. But I meant _before_ she and I got together. I was quite reckless. She pulled me out of it. Tamed me and made all the other girls jealous of her because she managed to snatch me up without much effort. Then again, she and I had been friends long before, which was far more than the other girls could say.”

“Su says that a lot of girls are apparently jealous of Draco for being with me. Of course, they’re probably also jealous of me for being with Draco.”

“Don’t you listen to them. They had their chance and it went down the drain. Listen— Molly’s invited us over for Christmas dinner… are you interested in going?”

“Of course,” said Kit happily. “Will Remus and Alastor be there?”

“I think Remus will be. Not sure about Alastor, he might be working. You can owl him and see if he comes.”

“Perfect. The day after, though— just letting you know— Blaise invited me to his house for dinner.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Is that a good idea? Your father knows you are friends with him. Any chance he might be checking for your arrival?”

“Don’t think so. Blaise’s mum hates my father and never even spoke much to my parents because she knew what they did to me. Blaise invited Hermione and Draco, too.”

“Ah, double date,” said Sirius, wiggling his eyebrows. "Will you be staying the night?"

"I don't think so. Blaise didn't mention anything about that. I think he feels a bit awkward asking Hermione to spend the night, since they're quite new with their relationship. Even if she sleeps in a room with me or by herself, he might find it strange. Dunno if her parents will let her."

"Excellent. You can always invite Malfoy to spend the night here, if you so wish. Again, just ask me to put a Silencing Charm—"

"I don't think my godmother would be alright with that. If she knew how we've been acting at school..."

"Bah, Narcissa was never any fun. She was several years older than me, but she and Lucius were together all through their years, all proper and whatnot. No sense of imagination or any curiosity whatsoever. Phew, if she knew her son was getting so intimate with you, she might faint."

"And yet, you're so cool with it because you're still very young."

"Nah, I'm cool with it because I'm not judgy. Young minds and bodies can't always control themselves, you know. Alana had a very tough time with that. She got into her moods within seconds without warning, and next thing, I was being dragged into a closet."

Kit giggled. "I can't even imagine my sister being like me."

"I expect the broom closets are better now than they were before," said Sirius pointedly. "Speaking of which— is Harry dating?"

"Nope. Poor soul. Being the Chosen One doesn't reap many benefits."

Sirius snorted at this. "He's quite a lot more like Lily in that aspect. James would have been so upfront and without limits. He's a lot like his mother, Harry is. Patient and serene. Takes his time to find the right person. Can't wait till he gets a girlfriend, though, I want to be the embarrassing parental figure that makes him all blushy."

On Christmas Day, Kit and Sirius had gone early to help with the preparations, as Sirius was offering to lend a helping hand in tending to some maintenance tasks that Mr. Weasley hadn’t been able to do because of how much he’d been working.

Kit had joined Ron and Harry in peeling sprouts for dinner over the Burrow’s kitchen sink, watching the snow drift past the window in front of them. 

Fred and George took this as an opportunity to tease them. “Aaah, George, look at this,” said Fred. “They’re using knives and everything. Bless them.”

“I’ll be seventeen in two and a bit months’ time,” said Ron grumpily, “and then I’ll be able to do it by magic!”

“But meanwhile,” said George, sitting down at the kitchen table and putting his feet up on it, “we can enjoy watching you demonstrate the correct use of a— whoops-a-daisy!”

“You made me do that!” said Ron angrily, sucking his cut thumb. “You wait, when I’m seventeen—”

“I’m sure you’ll dazzle us all with hitherto unsuspected magical skills,” yawned Fred. 

“And speaking of hitherto unsuspected skills, Ronald,” said George, “what is this we hear from Ginny about you and a young lady called— unless our information is faulty— Su Li?”

Ron turned pink. “So? She’s my girlfriend. Mind your own business.”

“What a snappy retort,” said Fred. “I really don’t know how you think of them. No, what we wanted to know was… how did it happen?” 

“What d’you mean?”

“Did she have an accident or something?”

“What?”

“Well, how did she sustain such extensive brain damage? Careful, now!”

Mrs. Weasley entered the room just in time to see Ron throw the sprout knife at Fred, who had turned it into a paper airplane with one lazy flick of his wand, “Ron!” she said furiously. “Don’t you ever let me see you throwing knives again!”

“I won’t,” said Ron, “let you see,” he added under his breath, as he turned back to the sprout mountain.

“Fred, George, we’re in luck,” said Mrs. Weasley. “Remus is arriving tonight, but Sirius has offered for him to stay at Grimmauld Place, meaning Bill won’t have to squeeze in with you two after all.”

“Wouldn’t have been a problem either way, Mum,” said George happily. 

“Then, as Charlie isn’t coming home, that just leaves Harry and Ron in the attic, and if Fleur shares with Ginny—”

“—that’ll make Ginny’s Christmas—” muttered Fred.

“— everyone should be comfortable,” said Mrs. Weasley. 

“Percy definitely not showing his ugly face, then?” asked Fred. Mrs. Weasley turned away before she answered. “No, he’s busy, I expect, at the Ministry.”

“Or he’s the world’s biggest prat,” said Fred, as Mrs. Weasley left the kitchen. “One of the two. Now, Ron, tell us!”

“She doesn’t have brain damage,” Kit told them sourly. “She’s perfectly healthy and spontaneous and she’s one of my bestest friends. You can meet her tonight.”

"Ah, we remember her vaguely from Hogwarts," said Fred. "She's pretty, which is why we're surprised."

“Who did the asking, then?” inquired George. “Surely not Ron?”

“She asked me, why does it matter?” hissed Ron. “She wanted to do it.”

“Sure it’s not because you got cold feet?” snickered Fred.

“Su likes to take charge of her own destiny, thanks,” said Kit. “Haven’t you two got somewhere else to be? You can wait to talk to her later. You’ll like her.”

“As a matter of fact, we do have somewhere to be,” said Fred thoughtfully. “Well, let’s get going, then, George, before little Kit throws a tantrum.”

“What are you two up to?” asked Ron. “Cant you help us with these sprouts? You could just use your wand and then we’ll be free too!”

“No, I don’t think we can do that,” said Fred seriously. “It’s very character-building stuff, learning to peel sprouts without magic, makes you appreciate how difficult it is for Muggles and Squibs—”

“— and if you want people to help you, Ron,” added George, throwing the paper airplane at him, “I wouldn’t chuck knives at them. Just a little hint. We’re off to the village, there’s a very pretty girl working in the paper shop who thinks my card tricks are something marvelous...almost like real magic...”

“Gits,” said Ron darkly, watching Fred and George setting off across the snowy yard. “Would’ve only taken them ten seconds and then we could’ve gone too.”

“I couldn’t,” said Harry. “I promised Dumbledore I wouldn’t wander off while I’m staying here.”

“Oh yeah,” said Ron. He peeled a few more sprouts and then said, “thanks, Kit.”

She smiled over at him. “No problem. They take the mickey out of you far too much for my liking. Makes me thankful I don’t have siblings.”

“You can have them,” huffed Ron. 

“Nah, that might be weird,” said Harry a bit playfully. “Kit once mentioned that if she didn’t have Malfoy, she’d marry one of them.”

Ron scrunched up his nose. “Alright, take Bill and Charlie then. Oh! And Ginny. You can have Ginny.”

“That’ll be delightful,” piped up Kit, flashing Harry a look. He pretended to be very interested in the sprout he was currently peeling.


	72. Chapter 72

**When the twins had come back later, they’d all gone outside to pull up carrots for Christmas dinner.**

A particularly rude garden gnome dared to bite Fred in the ankle during the process, therefore the boys had Stupefied it, painted it gold, stuffed it into a miniature tutu with small winds glued to its back, and set it atop the Christmas tree. It was the ugliest angel Kit had ever seen, with a large bald head like a potato and rather hairy feet.

“Just as long as Mum doesn’t find out, we’ll be all good,” said George warily when Mrs. Weasley didn’t notice it the first time she passed the tree. 

“You could have just put a picture of Ginny on the tree,” mused Kit as she peeked up. “She’s an angel.”

The twins and Ron snorted in unison. “Ginny, an angel?” said Ron. “If that’s the basis for ‘angel’ status, then Fleur’s a troll.”

“Oh, you’re all so rude to her,” chided Kit. “She’s your sister. As for Fleur— what’s everyone’s problem with her?”

“We don’t have a problem with her,” said Fred honestly. “Mum does. Fleur’s fine and dandy— a bit strange, but gorgeous. And she makes Bill happy. But Mum was really wanting him to marry Tonks since Charlie and her were close at Hogwarts— I suppose she’s always wanted Tonks to be part of the family but it hasn’t happened.”

“Nothing’s wrong with Fleur,” added George, “except for the fact that she’s French and Mum hardly knows her. Not that she tries to get to know her… all they do is bicker with each other.”

Ginny promptly came down after that, having heard Fleur’s name. “Why’re we discussing Phlegm?” 

Ron decided to answer. “‘Cause Kit thinks we have a problem with her. Actually— the only ones with a problem are you and Mum.”

“I don’t despise her,” said Ginny pointedly, coming over to stand beside Harry, who was turning slightly pink. “She’s just a bit overbearing. You try living with her all summer…”

“I think you’d have fared worse if I was here all summer,” said Kit. “I don’t mind admitting that I’m terrible company.”

“Malfoy clearly doesn’t think so,” snorted Harry. 

The twins turned to Kit, very interested. “What is it about Malfoy that makes you stay, eh?” asked Fred, wiggling his eyebrows.

Ginny saved her from answering this. “What is it about you that all you do is butt into other people’s business? It doesn’t matter why Kit wants to stay, as long as she’s happy!”

George held his hands up in surrender. “It was an innocent question, Gin, no need to get so defensive.”

Ginny smirked triumphantly, and Kit cast her an appreciative look before the redhead strolled away, out into the garden.

By dinnertime, Sirius had finished all the handiwork he’d been doing, and had had the time to help Remus settle into a room at Grimmauld Place before the two returned, dressed and ready to eat. Kit had helped as much in the kitchen as she could, needing something to do, but she was definitely no cook, and she really had only been keeping Mrs. Weasley company.

Su arrived just before they served the plates, which resulted in Kit and Harry having to set the table rapidly, it having just dawned on them that Mr. Weasley would be home soon and things weren’t quite so ready.

“How lovely to see you,” said Mrs. Weasley warmly, helping Su take off her coat. “Here, you can hang it here, dear…”

Mr. Weasley had arrived not long after with Alastor Moody in tow, looking very out of place but like he felt he had to be there, per Kit’s request.

“Hello,” said Kit brightly, greeting them at the door. “Happy Christmas.”

Alastor’s magical eye rolled around in its socket. “Wasn’t aware that you liked Christmas so much, Kit.”

“Oh, I can’t stand it,” she said honestly. “But this year feels better for me, so my mood’s improved.”

Yes, because last holiday season, Kit had been beat and shoved into her room after trying to lift her mother’s curse. 

They’d enjoyed their meal, and when it was done, Mrs. Weasley turned on a Christmas broadcast by her favorite singer, Celestina Warbeck, whose voice warbled out of the large wooden wireless set. Fleur (who didn’t seem to like the music) and Bill went to sit by the corner, the twins and Ginny started a game of Exploding Snap, Ron and Su moved to the other corner to chat, Remus and Sirius went to sit by the fire, whispering something in hushed, urgent tones, while Kit and Harry remained at the table with the remaining adults. 

When Harry struck up a conversation Mr. Weasley, Kit leaned back in her chair and glanced at Alastor, who was toying with some gears he’d pulled out of his pocket. 

“Didn’t get a letter from you, Kit,” said Alastor. “Everything alright?”

“Not a lot of time for research,” she murmured dejectedly. “I did find some stuff, but I didn’t want to write it out without my evidence. I have… a really solid theory down but I just need a bit more time to gather support for it. Right now, I think so far that the curse developed with her brain so that it made her think she actually believed all the things she preached, when she really doesn’t. The thing is, if that’s true, then it was very very risky. It could have worked or not, which would have left my father with the burden of having to refresh the curse. That wouldn’t have been possible in Azkaban, and Alana wouldn’t have followed along when all the Death Eaters were broken out.”

“I’m sure you’ll find your evidence soon. Takes time. What classes are you taking?”

“Everything I had last year except History, Astronomy, and Arithmancy. It sucks.”

“Bah, you’ll get through it fine. Your O.W.L. grades were impressive for someone who leaves everything until the last minute. You ever consider becoming an Auror?”

She scrunched her nose up. “Not really, no offense,” she said, making him chuckle. “I like the idea of action and all, but I have always been interested in Healing. Especially since Sirius told me that my sister was good at that sort of stuff.”

Alastor nodded slowly. “Probably because of what you went through as a child. You saw yourself getting hurt and sought to learn how to fix other people.”

“True. Childhood trauma at its finest…”

“Shall we have a nightcap, then?” called Mr. Weasley, leaping to his feet. “Who wants eggnog?”

When everyone responded with either ‘yes, please’ or ‘no, thank you,’ he went to fetch it, and Remus and Sirius returned to the table. 

“What have you been up to lately?” Harry asked Remus, making Kit and Alastor tune into their conversation. 

“Oh, I’ve been underground,” said Remus. “Almost literally. That’s why I haven’t been able to write, Harry; sending letters to you would have been something of a giveaway.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been living among my fellows, my equals,” said Remus. “Werewolves. Nearly all of them are on Voldemort’s side. Dumbledore wanted a spy and here I was… ready-made.”

Sirius snorted at the bitter tone in Remus’s voice. “If he’d let me out of the house, I’d have accompanied you. Cute little puppy for the wolves…”

Remus shrugged. “I am not complaining; it is necessary work and who can do it better than I? However, it has been difficult gaining their trust. I bear the unmistakable signs of having tried to live among wizards, you see, whereas they have shunned normal society and live on the margins, stealing— and sometimes killing— to eat.”

“How come they like Voldemort?”

“They think that, under his rule, they will have a better life. And it is hard to argue with Greyback out there...”

“Who’s Greyback?” asked Harry. 

“You haven’t heard of him? Fenrir Greyback is, perhaps, the most savage werewolf alive today. He regards it as his mission in life to bite and to contaminate as many people as possible; he wants to create enough werewolves to overcome the wizards. Voldemort has promised him prey in return for his services. Greyback specializes in children… Bite them young, he says, and raise them away from their parents, raise them to hate normal wizards. Voldemort has threatened to unleash him upon people’s sons and daughters; it is a threat that usually produces good results.”

Remus paused and then said, “It was Greyback who bit me.”

Kit clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh no! You mean— when you were a kid?”

“Yes. My father had offended him. I did not know, for a very long time, the identity of the werewolf who had attacked me; I even felt pity for him, thinking that he had had no control, knowing by then how it felt to transform. But Greyback is not like that. At the full moon, he positions himself close to victims, ensuring that he is near enough to strike. He plans it all. And this is the man Voldemort is using to marshal the werewolves. I cannot pretend that my particular brand of reasoned argument is making much headway against Greyback’s insistence that we werewolves deserve blood, that we ought to revenge ourselves on normal people.”

“But you are normal!” said Harry fiercely. “You’ve just got a — a problem —”

Both Remus and Sirius burst out laughing, and even Alastor snorted. “Sometimes you remind me a lot of James,” said Remus. “He called it my ‘furry little problem’ in company. Many people were under the impression that I owned a badly behaved rabbit.”

“If only they’d known that Remus was just a fuzzy little thing,” mused Sirius playfully. “Ah… I remember the day you told Alana. How she laughed.”

“Laughed?” said Kit. “In a— in a rude way?”

“Certainly not,” said Sirius. “She’d heard our whole ‘furry little problem’ discussion and was adamant about wanting to meet Remus’s secret pet. She thought he was being sneaky and bringing in a companion that was not allowed at Hogwarts.”

Remus smiled at this. “Yes, I recall, you thought she’d be trustworthy, and so we told her and Lily, and Lily immediately hugged me, but Alana went into a fit of giggles.”

“‘You prat, Remus,’” mimicked Sirius. “‘We thought you were breaking the rules and we were getting so excited to meet what we were sure was a feral rabbit…’ Ah… Alana coped with comedy all the time. She and I made many werewolf jokes after that, but all so subtle that no one figured it out. I remember, it drove you mad, Moony.”

“Oh no, what drove me mad was that she wanted to become an animagus too, after she’d learned that you lot did it for me. She was reckless, Alana, and too impulsive.”

“Can you blame her? She was my girl, and besides, since her Patronus was a fox, she thought she’d enjoy it quite a bit. Joked she’d get to be a redhead for once in her life so she could tease Lily.”

Harry smiled at this. “So, Kit’s sister was good friends with my mum?”

“Yes, they were. At first, we always wondered why Lily bothered to speak with Snivellus and Alana,” answered Sirius. “They were Slytherins and Snape, after all, was a pest to us. But Alana grew on us, the more Lily brought her around near where we hung out. Even when Lily would dart away to avoid being proposed to by James for the millionth time, Alana would stick around. She’d give him tips and that, I think, is when I started falling for her. I saw her helping my best mate out to get the girl and I just…”

He said no more as Mr. Weasley passed everyone a glass of eggnog. 

“Have you ever heard of someone called the Half-Blood Prince?” asked Harry afterward, when they were all drinking. 

“The Half-Blood what?” said Remus. 

“Prince,” said Harry. 

“There are no Wizarding princes,” said Remus, smiling. “Is this a title you’re thinking of adopting? I should have thought being ‘the Chosen One’ would be enough.”

Sirius laughed, but Harry shook his head quickly. “It’s nothing to do with me!” said Harry indignantly. “The Half-Blood Prince is someone who used to go to Hogwarts, I’ve got his old Potions book. He wrote spells all over it, spells he invented. One of them was Levicorpus—”

“Oh, that one had a great vogue during our time at Hogwarts,” said Remus reminiscently. “There were a few months in my fifth year when you couldn’t move for being hoisted into the air by your ankle.”

“My dad used it,” said Harry. “I saw him in the Pensieve, he used it on Snape.”

“Yes,” Sirius said, “but he wasn’t the only one. As Remus said, it was very popular… You know how these spells come and go...”

“But it sounds like it was invented while you were at school,” Harry persisted.

“Not necessarily,” said Sirius. “Jinxes go in and out of fashion like everything else. James was a pureblood, Harry, and I promise you, he never asked us to call him ‘Prince.’ Though, of course, Prince Prongs might have been his new favorite title if he’d ever thought of it.”

“Oh.” Harry looked disappointed, “I just thought— well, he’s helped me out a lot in Potions classes, the Prince has.”

“How old is this book, Harry?” asked Remus. 

“I dunno, I’ve never checked.”

“Well, perhaps that will give you some clue as to when the Prince was at Hogwarts.”

Alastor looked as though he wanted to scold Harry for risking his hide taking instructions from a random book, but he held back, and shared a look with Kit that made her laugh. His mind was likely screaming 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE!'

Shortly after this, Fleur decided to imitate Celestina singing, which was taken by everyone, once they had glimpsed Mrs. Weasley’s expression, to be the cue to go to bed. The Weasley children and Harry had made their way upstairs, and Kit and Su had put on their coats, as Alastor offered to take Su home so that her mother wouldn’t need to Apparate nearby again.

“I really enjoyed today,” said Su happily as Mrs. Weasley came to tell them goodbye. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“You’re always welcome here,” said Mr. Weasley as he shook her hand. “Ron is quite lucky to have you.”

Su had blushed, and they’d all made their way home.

The following day, Kit had helped Sirius and Remus with some house cleaning, since for some reason, they both didn’t want to have a conversation while Kit was around. It was as if they knew something that she didn’t, and didn’t want to take a risk for her to find out. 

“Well, I’m off to the Zabini residence,” said Kit as she went toward the fireplace. Sirius and Remus were both enjoying some drinks and lounging in the chairs. “You both have fun. Chat a bit. Enjoy each other’s company.”

They both seemed to know that she had clued into their secrecy, but they said nothing as the Flooed right into the heart of Zabini Manor, where Harriet was already waiting.

“Kit!” she said, coming closer and hugging her. “So good to see you— how was your Christmas?”

“It was good,” she said, seeing Blaise coming in behind her. “How was yours?”

“Oh, excellent,” answered Harriet, holding up her hand to show a gorgeous engagement ring. 

“Congratulations,” said Kit politely. This was about the seventh (maybe eighth) time that Harriet had shown her an engagement ring. However, behind her, Blaise looked quite pleased.

“Mum’s fiancé is coming over for dinner,” said Blaise as he approached her. “You’ll get to meet him.”

Kit grinned. “Perfect. Is Hermione here already?”

“Oh, yes,” said Harriet, waving her wand to clear up the soot from when Kit stepped out of the fireplace. “She’s been quite a dear— came early to help with the preparations even though the servants take care of it. Very sweet, that girl…”

Blaise blushed at this, and Kit followed him to the parlor, where Hermione was excitedly pouring into a book. “Kit,” she said happily. “Can you believe how many books they’ve got in here?”

“Harriet loves to collect them,” Kit told her as she sat with her. “They’ve got more books here than in the Thompson and Malfoy Manors combined. Three entire ballrooms filled with shelves.”

“I’d have loved to grow up here,” sighed Hermione dreamily. 

Blaise cleared his throat. “Andrea’s coming by. She and Nehemiah stopped in just for Christmas, but they’re going back to their house in America tomorrow.”

“It’ll be nice to see your sister,” Kit said happily before she heard some noise in the room they’d just been in. She turned in time to see Harriet bringing Draco out to greet them.

“Hey, mate,” said Blaise cheerfully, shaking his hand as he came to sit with them. Hermione smiled politely and waved at him, and Kit blushed as he sat on the other side of her. 

Dinner had been ready within half an hour, and they’d filed into the large dining room, finding the table filled with plates of roast duck, ham, and turkey, as well as several different types of pudding. There were eggnog glasses already waiting for them.

Harriet sat at the head of the table, and beside her was Nikolas Ollerton, her fiancé. As it turned out, he was a Muggle born British-Russian wizard who worked in Ministry relations with the Muggle world, and had a part-time position at St. Mungo’s to rally up any Muggles that were brought in and assure they received proper care before returning them to their homes. 

Andrea and her husband had come and sat closer to Hermione and Draco, which was furthest from Harriet. The woman looked over at her mother a bit skeptically, likely thinking this marriage wasn’t going to last, just as the past ones hadn’t. 

“Well,” said Andrea after they’d been eating silently for awhile. “You four are young— tell us what interesting things you’ve been doing.”

Draco and Kit shared a funny look. They couldn’t exactly tell the truth. It was either say a vulgar lie that they were off shagging, or be honest about their Death Eater business. So, of course, they acted casual.

“Just Quidditch and studying, really,” said Draco when Blaise beckoned him to speak. “Sixth year is rather difficult.”

“Wait till seventh year,” sighed Andrea. “You’ll see how much easier this year was. Hermione— Blaise tells me you keep up with a lot of prefect duties and are looking to become Head Girl. Are you interested in working in the Ministry? They favor anyone with that on their application.”

Hermione turned slightly pink from all the attention that came onto her. “Perhaps, yes. I’m not entirely sure where I want to go in the future— there are very many things that interest me. I do like the idea of working in the Ministry and being an advocate of sorts, but I’d also like to be a Professor, maybe.”

Nikolas chuckled at this. “It was once an aspiration of mine to be a Professor, too. Harriet tells me you’re very intelligent.”

Hermione’s face was progressively becoming redder. Kit was fighting back the urge to nudge her under the table, to show how proud she was. Andrea and Harriet obviously admired Hermione very much, and it was clear Blaise had told them quite a bit about her. 

When dinner came to a close, Nehemiah helped Andrea stand up. “Oh, won’t you stay for some wine?” asked Harriet. “You needn’t leave so early.”

“We’re not leaving yet, Mum,” said Andrea. “I’m just getting a bit woozy with all the smells.”

A knowing smile came to Harriet’s face, and Nehemiah brought a giddy look on his face, clearly not wanting to keep their secret anymore. “Well,” said Andrea, seeing how they were both looking at her. “We confirmed it yesterday at St. Mungo’s. You’re going to be a grandmum.”

Harriet clapped, and Kit smiled as Blaise leapt up to hug his sister and shake his brother-in-law’s hand. “How wonderful!” said Harriet happily, looking over at her son. “Next, it’s your turn.”

“Mum,” he said, looking flustered when Harriet glanced over at Hermione, who pretended to be very interested in her eggnog.

“It’s not a bad thing, Blaise,” chided Harriet. “Marriage and procreation isn’t a bad thing. After all, it’s the reason we’re all here.”

Nikolas, sensing that there was an air of slightly discomfort in the air, let out a soft snort. “I still like to think we were dropped off by storks.”

They’d all laughed at that.

Andrea and Nehemiah had left later into the night, and Harriet and Nikolas had gone to walk in the grounds, through the snowy gardens filled with statues that adorned the exterior of Zabini Manor. 

“This has been fun,” said Hermione, leaning onto Blaise where they resided on the couch nearest the fireplace. “Thank you for inviting us.”

Draco leaned over to whisper in Kit’s ear. “Her real question is ‘when’s our wedding, then?’”

Kit snickered lightly, and the two looked away as Blaise leaned down to kiss Hermione on the forehead. “Sirius didn’t think I should come,” whispered Kit to Draco. “Because my father knows I’m friends with Blaise.”

“I don’t think your father's anywhere near here,” Draco murmured. “Mother was telling me that my aunt Bellatrix stopped by the other day to say they were doing business far from here. They’re banded together— your father, Alana, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan. My aunt only pops in to tell my mother so that she can stay in the know. But you know my mother… she could care less. All she wants is for us to all be safe. She was asking about you, yesterday. She’s glad that we’re together and all that, but she’s scared, Kit. She thinks you’ll get sucked in and forced to become a Death Eater. Or killed.”

Kit winced. “I’ll be careful, I swear it. Alastor taught me Occlumency, so that’s one major defense. I’m working really hard in courses to master spells well, so that’s another good defense. It’s not like we’re being so… overt, you know?”

“I’m just concerned. All the lies are going to catch up to us, soon. I’ve been planning for… next time, you know… but I don’t know if it’ll work. I have in mind to study potions in more depth, which would do you good, too. We’ll need to refresh the… butterbeer deal we have with Rosmerta.”

“I see,” said Kit softly. “Well, whatever you decide, we’ll go through with it. I’m more than willing to do whatever it takes, you know that.”

“I know, Kit Kat,” he whispered. “And that’s what terrifies me.”


	73. Chapter 73

**A few days after New Year, they returned to Hogwarts.**

The Ministry had arranged a one-off connection to the Floo Network to return students quickly and safely to the school, meaning everyone got to use their fireplaces to get back.

Kit had hugged Sirius and Remus before departing, despite her nagging suspicion that they were hiding something from her. She’d arrived in Flitwick’s office not long after Terry and Anthony, who seemed to have come together.

“Hullo,” she greeted as they walked to the Ravenclaw Common Room. “How was your holiday?”

“Splendid,” said Terry happily. “My parents didn’t think anything of it when I said I was spending the holiday at Anthony’s house.”

Anthony smirked at this. “Obviously, my parents were thrilled. I think Terry managed to be introduced to every member of my extended family.”

“They were all really nice about it, too,” Terry noted as they arrived through the already open door “Makes me wish there was a way to Confund my parents or something, so that they act like that when I tell them… say— look at this!”

He pointed at a large sign pinned on the noticeboard. 

_APPARITION LESSONS_

_If you are seventeen years of age, or will turn seventeen on or before the 31st August next, you are eligible for a twelve-week course of Apparition Lessons from a Ministry of Magic Apparition instructor. Please sign below if you would like to participate. Cost: 12 Galleons._

“Twelve Galleons?” sighed Anthony. “I should just ask my dad to teach me, at that rate.”

“It’s not too bad,” said Terry. “Look, Kit— you barely made the cutoff date?”

She grinned. “Thankfully. Right on the nose. I’ve only gotten to apparate once— Side-Along with Alastor Moody.”

“How was it?” asked Terry with great interest. “Does it feel terrible?”

“It’s… like you’re being sucked into a tight funnel. Rather instantaneous. I almost threw up the first time the first time. Of course, Alastor just laughed.”

The next day when lessons had started again, Kit found herself feeling as though things were going slightly better. She’d gotten used to the Ancient Runes workload, and was coping well enough with her other classes. She still half-assed several assignments, but she managed to do well, and so far she hadn’t had a tantrum that left her snarling at her friends. She felt it was probably because she’d dropped several classes and had a tad more time to work on assignments now. 

“Settle down, settle down, please!” said Slughorn that afternoon when Kit and Draco hurried into the classroom after a very brief snog session. “Quickly, now, lots of work to get through this afternoon! Golpalott’s Third Law...who can tell me—? But Miss Granger can, of course!”

Hermione recited at top speed: “Golpalott’s Third Law states that the antidote for a blended poison will be equal to more than the-sum of the antidotes for each of the separate components.”

“Precisely!” beamed Slughorn. “Ten points for Gryffindor! Now, if we accept Golpalott’s Third Law as true...”

Kit and Draco were practically competing to take notes on it, though Draco was doing a significantly better job since he already thoroughly understood Golpalott’s Laws and didn’t need to write down as much as Kit, who’d neglected reading ahead for the course.”

“...which means, of course, that assuming we have achieved correct identification of the potion’s ingredients by Scarpin’s Revelaspell, our primary aim is not the relatively simple one of selecting antidotes to those ingredients in a of themselves, but to find that added component which will, by an almost alchemical process, transform these disparate elements—”

Kit’s brain felt like it was on fire and her hand ached from how much she was writing, turning all the complex words into simpler forms before writing them down so that she could better understand the process. She should have taken Alchemy as an elective, that might have helped, but then again, there wasn't high enough demand for the class this term...

“...and so,” finished Slughorn, “I want each of you to come and take one of these phials from my desk. You are to create an antidote for the poison within it before the end of the lesson. Good luck, and don’t forget your protective gloves!”

Draco and Hermione were the first to launch out of their stools and get their materials from Slughorn’s desk. Kit and Ernie followed, and soon, the rest of the class followed behind them. Harry and Ron appeared to be struggling with this, and poor Su was wincing and glancing repeatedly at her textbook, hoping a solution would appear.

On the other side of Kit, Blaise was not having a good time. She herself was struggling— it really only seemed like Hermione and Draco knew what they were doing, and even then, they were not completing their potions perfectly. 

“Two minutes left, everyone!” Slughorn called as the hour started to come to an end. Draco had already done a fine job of separating his poison ingredients into ten different crystal phials, and was leisurely trying to finish up, though he had a proud look on his face like he knew he’d already done the best work in the class.

“Time’s...UP!” called Slughorn genially. “Well, let’s see how you’ve done!”

Slowly, Slughorn moved around the room, examining the various antidotes. Nobody had finished the task completely, but Hermione and Draco had progressed the furthest. He had noted this with admirable glances at their cauldrons, but had not spoken any words of praise to either, which brought a livid look on their faces.

“And you, Harry,” Slughorn said. “What have you got to show me?” Harry held out his hand, the bezoar sitting on his palm. Slughorn looked down at it for a full ten seconds, then threw back his head and roared with laughter.

“You’ve got a nerve, boy!” he boomed, taking the bezoar and holding it up so that the class could see it. “Oh, you’re like your mother… well, I can’t fault you… a bezoar would certainly act as an antidote to all these potions!”

There was a snapping sound, and Kit realized Draco had broken one of his utensils from how hard he’d been gripping it. Even Hermione looked completely distraught. 

“And you thought of a bezoar all by yourself, did you, Harry?” she asked Harry through gritted teeth.

“That’s the individual spirit a real potion-maker needs!” said Slughorn happily, before Harry could reply. “Just like his mother, she had the same intuitive grasp of potion-making, it’s undoubtedly from Lily he gets it… yes, Harry, yes, if you’ve got a bezoar to hand, of course that would do the trick… although as they don’t work on everything, and are pretty rare, it’s still worth knowing how to mix antidotes… well, it is time to pack up! And an extra ten points to Gryffindor for sheer cheek!”

Draco stormed out, and Kit stumbled to follow, catching his arm. “Slughorn’s biased, we all know that, you needn’t get mad!” she said hurriedly.

Obviously, her words didn’t matter, as he’d already decided on how to let out his anger.

_A/N: Steaminess warning for sensitive eyes. Honestly idk how to show when it’s over but…. Good Luck, Charlie ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯_

He’d yanked her into the nearest broom closet, causing her to let out a slight squeak as she was abruptly pressed inside, the door shutting quickly behind them. He captured her mouth in his, hands hungrily snaking up and down her body, squeezing and digging into sensitive spots all for the sake of making her cry out in pleasure.

“Draco!” she moaned when he started to kiss down her front, over her robes. “We didn’t— we didn’t cast a silencing spell or anything—”

“Does it look like I care?” he growled, reaching her waist and standing back up, pulling her robes off and tearing into her button-down without caring that he’d torn through almost all the buttons. “Let them hear us. Let them be jealous. I don’t mind if everyone hears you moaning my name. It’ll let them know that you’re mine. Always.”

She’d squirmed and writhed back against the wall— clearly he was aiming to get her shivering and it was working. He had exposed her entire front except for her breasts, which were tucked behind her brassiere, and was pressing his lips against every inch of skin he could find, his cold hands tracing up and down her sides and making her stomach do flips. When she’d reached her hands over to his robes to pull them off and simultaneously bring him back up so she could kiss him again, he’d caught her hands and pinned them on either side of her head. It was too dark for her to see him, but she knew his eyes were fiery behind the ocean that resided naturally in them.

“I don’t recall you asking for permission to do that, princess,” he said lowly in her ear. 

“I-I have to ask for p-permission now?” she squeaked, her voice wavering quite a bit.

“Yes, you do. You should know that by now.”

Kit gulped, feeling his breath hot on her neck. This was ridiculous, and yet, it turned her on to hear how commanding he was. She didn’t mind putting up with this. He aimed to have her submit, and she’d do it with him and him only. “M-May I— take o-off your robes?”

“Yes, you can,” he purred, pleased with her for not challenging him this time. “Good girl, you’re going to get a lot more pleasure by being obedient.”

He released her wrists and she tore his robes off, yanking off his shirt and ignoring the clattering sound of buttons hitting random spots of the walls and the floor. She ran her hands up and down his chest, pressing her fingers over his abdomen, which elicited another growl from him. He ground his hips right against her core as he slammed his lips almost bruisingly hard onto hers, making her whimper as she slipped her hand down his pants.

He snatched her wrist with such speed that she let out a squeal of surprise. “What did I say about permission?” he said, disconnecting his mouth from hers. He knew she was a mess beneath him, her face likely crimson red from the humiliation that she was enjoying, having to answer to him. 

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I-I thought you wouldn’t object—”

He grasped her throat with his other hand, making her moan and nearly sink down onto the floor from how much her legs were shaking. He adored how easily he could get her to fall apart, and she loved how he grasped her, dominating her without hesitation but not in a way that ever hurt her. He knew exactly how to make her feel good, and she knew that he thrived off of pleasing her and getting her to be submissive to him.

“Beg,” he commanded. “Use your words. That way… you can start warming up your mouth so we can put it to good use.”

And just like that, she started pleading and apologizing and begging him for more, which he delivered, dropping his pants when she asked him to. 

_A/N: Steaminess…. Over? Sounds like I’m typing walkie talkie dialogue. Anyway yeah I feel this fits Draco really well (he's definitely turned on by being in control) but if y'all have suggestions on other stuff I should portray, lmk._

**_**

The days rolled through, and Kit found herself looking forward to Apparition lessons, even though she was swarmed with enough work as it was.

Draco had begun making the recipe for the poison he wanted to make, and was in the process of gathering the ingredients covertly while Kit prepared the materials and the schedule for how they needed to brew it. In between, Kit planned out strategies for Quidditch practice and continued to do her research on her sister’s condition. 

“Hey, Kit,” said Harry one afternoon when he found her surrounded by books and sheets of parchment. “Are you um… willing to research another thing?”

“Er— sure,” she said. “Depends what it is. If it ties in with some of my sister, it’ll be an easy thing to add.”

Harry bit his lip and lowered his voice. “Horcruxes. I can’t explain exactly what it’s for, but Hermione’s had no luck in figuring anything out, and I was thinking you might be closer to knowing where to look. You have access to the Restricted Section, right?”

“Yes,” said Kit. “Snape gave it to me as consolation for my mother’s death.”

That was partially true. Knowing the research she was doing, she’d been called up the other day and had been given a pass to use the Restricted Section. In his drawled voice, he’d said it was because he knew how much the research meant to her following her mother’s death. Obviously, this was a ruse for the fact that he really wanted her to keep helping Draco, and knew that such access was probably useful. 

“Have you ever heard of Horcruxes?” Harry asked, looking a tad desperate.

“I’ve heard the word but I don’t know what it does. I think… I think my father may have had some books on it. But I can’t access the Thompson Manor— Alastor said the Ministry’s sealed it off because my father placed all these hexes and curses and traps on it to make sure no one could get in. They’re still working on removing all of those spells.”

“It’s alright,” said Harry, even though he was clearly disappointed. “Just— please. I could really use your help. It’s related to what I’m doing with Dumbledore, and it would mean a lot to me. I’ll pay you to do the research, if you want— I’ll pay for your Apparition lessons, or something—”

“Don’t be absurd, I’m glad to help,” said Kit honestly. “I’ll let you know anything that I find.”

Unbeknowst to Kit, Harry had just given her the piece of the puzzle she needed to figure out what was wrong with Alana. However, she wasn’t anywhere near finding that out just yet. 

The snow melted around the school as February arrived, to be replaced by cold, dreary wetness. Purplish-grey clouds hung low over the castle and a constant fall of chilly rain made the lawns slippery and muddy. 

By then, Kit and Draco’s poison was already brewing. It was going to follow a very specific timeline for when to add ingredients, but with the two of them taking note of it and going to the Room of Requirement in intervals to avoid suspicion, they were certain it would go well.

The second Saturday of February arrived, meaning that the sixth years were in for their first Apparition lessons in the Great Hall. The tables had been removed, and the room looked as large as it did on the day of the Yule Ball, which seemed so long ago. Rain lashed against the high windows and the enchanted ceiling swirled darkly above them as they assembled in front of Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick and Sprout and a small wizard whom Kit took to be the Apparition Instructor from the Ministry. He was oddly colorless, with transparent eyelashes, wispy hair and an insubstantial air, as though a single gust of wind might blow him away. 

“Good morning,” said the Ministry wizard, when all the students had arrived and the Heads of House had called for quiet. “My name is Wilkie Twycross and I shall be your Ministry Apparition Instructor for the next twelve weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you for your Apparition test in this time, by which time, many of you may be ready for it.

“As you may know, it is usually impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts. The Headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely within the Great Hall, for one hour, so as to enable you to practice. May I emphasise that you will not be able to Apparate outside the walls of this Hall, and that you would be unwise to try.

“I would like each of you to place yourselves now so that you have a clear five feet of space in front of you.”

There was a great scrambling and jostling as people separated, banged into each other, and ordered others out of their space. The Heads of House moved among the students, marshalling them into position and breaking up arguments.

“Quiet!” called McGonagall when they’d finished shuffling students about. 

“Thank you,” said Twycross. “Now then...” He waved his wand. Old-fashioned wooden hoops instantly appeared on the floor in front of every student. “The important things to remember when Apparating are the three D’s! Destination, Determination, Deliberation!”

“More like Devastation, Depression, and Damnation,” whispered Draco from beside Kit. She had to fight back a giggle. 

“Step one: fix your mind firmly upon the desired destination,” said Twycross. “In this case, the interior of your hoop. Kindly concentrate upon that destination now.”

Everybody looked around furtively, to check that everyone else was staring into their hoop, then hastily did as they were told. 

“Step two,” said Twycross, “focus your determination to occupy the visualised space! Let your yearning to enter it flood from your mind to every particle of your body! “

Kit tried to relax and concentrate at the same time. She visualized herself crossing through the hoop… 

“Step three,” called Twycross, “only when I give the command...turn on the spot, feeling your way into nothingness, moving with deliberation. On my command, now...one, two— THREE!”

Obviously, no one accomplished it so quickly. The majority of the Great Hall had either fallen or staggered off to the side. Neville was laying flat on his back, and Kit had fallen on her face, managing to catch herself to avoid any permanent damage.

“Never mind, never mind,” said Twycross dryly, who did not seem to have expected anything better. “Adjust your hoops, please, and back to your original positions...”

The second attempt was no better than the first. The third was just as bad. Not until the fourth did anything exciting happen. There was a horrible screech of pain and everybody looked around, terrified, to see Susan Bones of Hufflepuff wobbling in her hoop with her left leg still standing five feet away where she had started.

The Heads of House converged on her; there was a great bang and a puff of purple smoke, which cleared to reveal Susan sobbing, reunited with her leg but looking horrified.

“Splinching, or the separation of random body parts,” said Wilkie Twycross dispassionately, “occurs when the mind is insufficiently determined. You must concentrate continually upon your destination, and move, without haste, but with deliberation...thus.”

Twycross stepped forwards, turned gracefully on the spot with his arms outstretched and vanished in a swirl of robes, reappearing at the back of the Hall. “Remember the three D’s,” he said, “and try again...one — two — three”

“He’s a bit too casual about this, don’t you think?” said Draco, whose face was red with effort after their fifth attempt.

“He’s seen too much shit in the past,” Kit noted, annoyed that she hadn’t managed any progress.

An hour later, everyone but Twycross seemed discouraged, and Susan’s Splinching was still the most interesting thing that had happened. Fastening his cloak at his neck, he merely said, “Until next Saturday, everybody, and do not forget: Destination. Determination. Deliberation.” With that, he waved his wand, Vanishing the hoops, and walked out of the Hall accompanied by Professor McGonagall. Talk broke out at once as people began moving towards the Entrance Hall.

February moved towards March with no change in the weather except that it became windy as well as wet. Apparition lessons were unsuccessful as usual, and to general indignation, a sign went up on all common-room noticeboards that the next trip into Hogsmeade had been cancelled. Su was furious.

“Damn it!” she hissed. “I was going to take him on a Hogsmeade date that day… Oh, well, I suppose we just have to have a date somewhere secluded…”

Kit hadn’t been up for offering any suggestions. Her mind was swarming, because her and Draco’s poison had been completed for a few days already, and they’d snuck into Hogsmead to get Rosmerta to deliver the poison in a bottle of mead to the castle. They’d instructed her to go speak with Slughorn casually (as they’d overheard he was going to gift a bottle of mead to Dumbledore for Christmas but hadn’t yet) and switch the bottles before encouraging him to gift it to Dumbledore even if it was a bit late.

They thought the plan would go well. Slughorn would give Dumbledore the bottle at long last without suspecting anything. 

How wrong they were.


	74. Chapter 74

**Kit had thrown up when Hermione told her what happened.**

Hermione had found her in the library in the afternoon and suggested they begin walking toward the Hospital Wing. Along the way, the news had come out, and Kit had sprinted into the nearest lavatory to purge into the toilet.

“Kit!” Hermione cried worriedly, pulling her hair out of her face as the Ravenclaw shook and gagged over the bowl, her eyes watering.

The stress had gotten to her. The guilt was too much. Again, they had failed, and now, it hit closer to home. It was tearing her apart inside to be involved in this, to play a hand in such atrocities, and yet, she remained, because otherwise Draco would be alone and they’d have no choice.

Both of them had changed, physically. Thinner, from constantly skipping meals to work on their project. There was a greyer tint to Draco’s face on bad days, and Kit found that she was losing a lot of hair in the shower. It was still rather short, but it was making her feel more paranoid. 

It felt like they were being eaten alive.

“Kit— are you alright?” cried Hermione, who had no inkling that this vomit was coming from the sinking, painful feeling in Kit’s stomach due to how ashamed she felt of herself.

“M’fine,” she croaked, her hands clutching the toilet seat firmly as she tried to bring herself back to Earth. “Just— felt sick.”

Obviously, Hermione had not just left it at that. “Is it something you ate?” she asked. “Did you have anything at all, today?”

“I-I had breakfast,” said Kit shakily as she straightened up, ripping some toilet paper to clean her mouth. She stood and went to the sink, cupping water in her palm and cleaning her mouth.

Hermione inched forward tentatively. “Kit… are you—?”

The lies were swarming up and choking her now. She and Draco kept lying over over again, saying that they were doing things they were not. They hadn’t yet gone all the way, but by now, the entire school thought that they had, and it seemed only natural that Hermione was fearing that Kit was feeling nauseous for a very particular reason. 

“I’m not,” she said right away, spitting into the sink and gargling water again. She pointed her wand at her mouth and cast several silent spells to ensure it was clean from the vomit. “I’m fine— I just— had eggs, and I usually don’t because they make me sick. Combined with terrible news…” she rubbed her forehead. “Why… why was Ron even in Slughorn’s office in the first place?”

“Romilda Vane slipped Harry some Chocolate Cauldrons with Love Potion in them, awhile back. Ron got a hold of them today. Su was with them, apparently— she knows more than I do.”

As it turned out, Su had gone to deliver Ron’s birthday present, and had bumped into Harry, who was dragging Ron to Slughorn’s office for the antidote. After a very quick conversation to ensure that Su didn’t get the wrong idea, they’d gone together and luckily, Ron had not died.

“So, all in all, not one of Ron’s better birthdays?” said Fred in the evening, once the twins had arrived to see him. Kit felt sick to her stomach just being there, but she hadn’t been able to leave without attracting suspicion. They’d been waiting outside all day trying to get in, but Madam Pomfrey had only let them in at eight o’clock, and Kit couldn’t just leave. 

“This isn’t how we imagined handing over our present,” said George grimly, putting down a large wrapped gift on Ron’s bedside cabinet and sitting beside Ginny.

“Yeah, when we pictured the scene, he was conscious,” said Fred.

“There we were in Hogsmeade, waiting to surprise him—” said George.

“You were in Hogsmeade?” asked Ginny, looking up.

“We were thinking of buying Zonko’s,” said Fred gloomily. “A Hogsmeade branch, you know, but a fat lot of good it’ll do us if you lot aren’t allowed out at weekends to buy our stuff anymore...But never mind that now.” He drew up a chair beside Harry and looked at Ron’s pale face.

“How exactly did it happen?”

Kit tuned out as he went into it. He and Su had already said their accounts earlier, and it was still unfathomable to Kit. She glanced to where Su was holding Ron’s hand and stroking it gently. If her best friend found out that she’d had a part in this….

“...and then I got the bezoar down his throat and his breathing eased up a bit, Slughorn ran for help, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey turned up, and they brought Ron up here,” Harry was saying. “They reckon he’ll be all right. Madam Pomfrey says he’ll have to stay here a week or so… keep taking essence of rue...”

“Blimey, it was lucky you thought of a bezoar,” said George in a low voice.

“Lucky there was one in the room,” said Harry.

Su let out a small sniff of worry, leaning down to kiss Ron’s temple. 

“Do Mum and Dad know?” Fred asked Ginny.

“They’ve already seen him, they arrived an hour ago— they’re in Dumbledore’s office now, but they’ll be back soon...”

“So the poison was in the drink?” said Fred quietly.

“Yes,” said Harry at once. “Slughorn poured it out—”

“Would he have been able to slip something into Ron’s glass without you seeing?”

“Probably, but why would Slughorn want to poison Ron?”

“No idea. You don’t think he could have mixed up the glasses by mistake? Meaning to get you?”

“Why would Slughorn want to poison Harry?” asked Hermione, leaning back into Blaise, who had arrived just before they were let in, having been at Quidditch practice. 

“I dunno,” said George, “but there must be loads of people who’d like to poison Harry, mustn’t there? ‘The Chosen One’ and all that?”

“So you think Slughorn’s a Death Eater?” said Ginny.

“Anything’s possible,” said Fred darkly.

“He could be under the Imperius Curse,” said George.

“Or he could be innocent,” said Ginny. “The poison could have been in the bottle, in which case it was probably meant for Slughorn himself.”

“Who’d want to kill Slughorn?”

“Dumbledore reckons Voldemort wanted Slughorn on his side,” said Harry. “Slughorn was in hiding for a year before he came to Hogwarts. And… And maybe Voldemort wants him out of the way, maybe he thinks he could be valuable to Dumbledore.”

“But you said Slughorn had been planning to give that bottle to Dumbledore for Christmas,” Ginny reminded him. “So the poisoner could just as easily have been after Dumbledore.”

“Then the poisoner didn’t know Slughorn very well,” said Hermione, who had been quiet for awhile trying to figure things out. “Anyone who knew Slughorn would have known there was a good chance he’d keep something that tasty for himself.”

Crap. That’s where they’d messed up. They hadn’t thought that Slughorn would keep the mead even after they had Rosmerta egg him to give it to Dumbledore. They thought that the second time would be the charm.

The dormitory doors flew open, making them all jump: Hagrid came striding toward them, his hair rain-flecked, his bearskin coat flapping behind him, a crossbow in his hand, leaving a trail of muddy dolphin-sized footprints all over the floor.

“Bin in the forest all day!” he panted. “Aragog’s worse, I bin readin’ to him— didn’ get up ter dinner till jus’ now an’ then Professor Sprout told me abou’ Ron! How is he?”

“Not bad,” said Su quietly. “They say he’ll be okay.”

“No more than seven visitors at a time!” said Madam Pomfrey, hurrying out of her office.

“I can step out,” said Kit, wanting an excuse to leave.

“No, I will,” said Blaise, patting Hermione’s shoulder. “Need to get cleaned up anyway.” He leaned down to peck her cheek before dashing out.

“I don’ believe this,” said Hagrid hoarsely. “Jus’ don’ believe it… Look at him lyin’ there… Who’d want ter hurt him, eh?”

Kit swallowed the lump in her throat. Neither she nor Draco had intended for this to happen, but all the same, the guilt was making her feel queasy.

“Someone couldn’ have a grudge against the Gryffindor Quidditch team, could they?” said Hagrid anxiously. “Firs’ Katie, now Ron...”

“I can’t see anyone trying to bump off a Quidditch team,” said George.

“Wood might’ve done the Slytherins if he could’ve got away with it,” said Fred fairly.

“Well, I don’t think it’s Quidditch, but I think there’s a connection between the attacks,” said Hermione quietly

“How d’you work that out?” asked Kit, her heart thumping hard in her chest.

“Well, for one thing, they both ought to have been fatal and weren’t, although that was pure luck. And for another, neither the poison nor the necklace seems to have reached the person who was supposed to be killed. Of course, that makes the person behind this even more dangerous in a way, because they don’t seem to care how many people they finish off before they actually reach their victim.”

Kit wanted to cry. She felt mortified. She had thought this wouldn’t result in collateral damage, and yet it had. Neither she nor Draco intended for anyone to have gotten hurt in the first place. It was just poor calculations, and resulting in the fact that Kit was refraining from pitching her own ideas. 

Before anybody could respond to this ominous pronouncement, the dormitory doors opened again and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hurried up the ward. They had done no more than satisfy themselves that Ron would make a full recovery on their last visit to the ward; now Mrs. Weasley seized hold of Harry and hugged him very tighty.

“Dumbledore’s told us how you saved him with the bezoar,” she sobbed. “Oh, Harry, what can we say? You saved Ginny...you saved Arthur...now you’ve saved Ron

“Don’t be...I didn’t...” muttered Harry awkwardly.

“Half our family does seem to owe you their lives, now I stop and think about it,” Mr. Weasley said in a constricted voice. “Well, all I can say is that it was a lucky day for the Weasleys when Ron decided to sit in your compartment on the Hogwarts Express Harry.”

Kit had taken leave right after this, as Madam Pomfrey reminded them that there were only supposed to be seven visitors around Ron’s bed. Su and Kit had gotten up immediately, along with Hermione and Harry, who were followed out by Hagrid.

Su started to weep when she and Kit got out into the hallway.

“I-I c-can’t i-imagine why a-anyone would want to h-hurt him!” she hiccuped, and Kit put a consoling arm around her. This was all her fault, and here she was, comforting Su like she hadn’t had anything to do with it…

“I’m sorry,” said Kit softly. Though she knew that Su would interpret it as her saying she was sorry this had happened to Ron, Kit really meant that she was sorry for what she’d done to lead up to this.

She’d dropped Su off in the Ravenclaw Common Room, where she was swarmed by the worried Terry and Anthony. Kit had bade them farewell, and had hurried to the Slytherin Common Room, where she found Blaise had already told Draco what’d happened.

“Kit,” he breathed when he saw her, rushing over to her and engulfing her in his arms.

She’d burst into tears right there, face pressed into his chest. At some point, Blaise must have left, but she wasn’t paying attention. She held onto Draco with such ferocity that he did not expect her to detach herself anytime soon. He was holding back from tears of his own, wanting to be there to comfort her. It was his fault she felt that she had to be involved in this, and he had to stay strong for her. How he wished he didn’t have to do this stupid task in the first place. 

The news that Ron had been poisoned spread quickly next day, but it did not cause the sensation that Katie’s attack had done. People seemed to think that it might have been an accident, given that he had been in the Potions master’s room at the time, and that as he had been given an antidote immediately there was no real harm done. In fact, the Gryffindors were generally much more interested in the upcoming Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, for many of them wanted to see Zacharias Smith, who played Chaser on the Hufflepuff team, punished soundly for his commentary during the opening match against Slytherin.

Kit became increasingly distracted as the days went on. She wasn’t thinking of how to strategize. Not long ago, Ravenclaw had played Slytherin and won, meaning they were on a good path to the Quidditch Cup, but rather than focusing on how to gain an advantage through observing the coming match, all she felt was paranoia. Someone was bound to connect the dots soon, and she feared that someone would be Harry, who was relentless in questioning everything new he learned. Apparently, Snape and Dumbledore had had some argument, and Harry was convinced that Draco and Snape were up to something. For now, he seemed to think Kit had absolutely no involvement, but it was only a matter of time before he did. 

On the morning of the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, Kit couldn’t sit still. Su had not wanted to watch the match because she wanted to spend the day with Ron instead, who was still on bedrest. Kit had sat with Draco, who wasn’t really into it, but wanted something to do to take his mind off of everything. 

“You alright?” Draco asked quietly when she kept fidgeting and moving her scarf around.

“I’m fine,” she said out of habit, even though it wasn’t true. She was becoming far too accustomed to lying. 

It was even more difficult to pay attention to the match considering that Luna was commentating. Not that she was bad at it, but it just wasn’t what Kit was used to, and made her feel like she was losing track of everything going on. 

“And that’s Smith of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle,” she said in her dreamy voice.. “He did the commentary last time, of course, and Ginny Weasley flew into him, I think probably on purpose, it looked like it. Smith was being quite rude about Gryffindor, I expect he regrets that now he’s playing them— oh, look, he’s lost the Quaffle, Ginny took it from him, I do like her, she’s very nice… but now that big Hufflepuff player’s got the Quaffle from her, I can’t remember his name, it’s something like Bibble— no, Buggins—”

“It’s Cadwallader!” said Professor McGonagall loudly from beside Luna. The crowd laughed.

It was worse because Cormac McLaggen was substituting for Ron, and he was downright insufferable. Cadwallader had scored because McLaggen had been shouting criticism at Ginny for allowing the Quaffle out of her possession.

“McLaggen, will you pay attention to what you’re supposed to be doing and leave everyone else alone!” bellowed Harry, wheeling around to face his Keeper. 

“You’re not setting a great example!” McLaggen shouted back, red-faced and furious.

“And Harry Potter’s now having an argument with his Keeper,” said Luna serenely, while both Hufflepuffs and Slytherins below in the crowd cheered and jeered. “I don’t think that’ll help him find the Snitch, but maybe it’s a clever ruse...”

Swearing angrily, Harry set off to fly again, and Kit flinched at the sound once it carried toward where she and Draco were sitting.

“Potter’s in a right foul mood,” Draco observed. “Of course, I’d be too, with a teammate like McLaggen…”

Gryffindor scored twice, then Hufflepuff did once, but Luna did not seem to have noticed; she appeared singularly uninterested in such mundane things as the score, and kept attempting to draw the crowd’s attention to such things as interestingly shaped clouds and the possibility that Zacharias Smith, who had so far failed to maintain possession of the Quaffle for longer than a minute, was suffering from something called ‘Loser’s Lurgy.’

“Seventy-forty to Hufflepuff!” barked Professor McGonagall into Luna’s megaphone.

“Is it, already?” said Luna vaguely. “Oh, look! The Gryffindor Keeper’s got hold of one of the Beater’s bats.”

Kit and Draco snapped their gaze toward McLaggen, who for reasons best known to himself, had pulled Peakes’s bat from him and appeared to be demonstrating how to hit a Bludger toward an oncoming Cadwallader.

“Will you give him back his bat and get back to the goal posts!” roared Harry, pelting toward McLaggen just as McLaggen took a ferocious swipe at the Bludger and mishit it.

Kit was able to focus enough to let out a scream as the bat collided with Harry’s head, and he nearly slipped off his brooms. With astounding luck, the two Gryffindor Beaters caught him before he could fall, which would have likely killed him.

Kit was able to focus enough to let out a scream as the bat collided with Harry’s head, and he nearly slipped off his brooms. With astounding luck, the two Gryffindor Beaters caught him before he could fall, which would have likely killed him.

She could see Dean Thomas had laughed, from nearby, and that Ginny had all of the sudden rounded on him, snarling angrily at him for finding amusement in such a thing, while Harry was rushed off to the Hospital Wing. 

“That was a bust,” said Draco when Hufflepuff emerged victorious with a final score of three hundred and twenty to sixty. They made their way down the stands, where the Gryffindor team looked very bummed out. Ginny looked downright furious, and was giving a cold shoulder to both Dean and McLaggen, who’d been on the receiving end of several of her insults, and almost hexes.

“Woah—” Draco caught Kit just as she slipped off one of the benches, holding her firmly so that she wouldn’t fall. “Kit Kat, you have to be careful, you could have hit your head.”

She was still too distracted to understand what he was saying, but she looked up and just nodded, assuming it was the right thing to do.

“Kit,” Draco said urgently when they’d made it down to the field and she’d nearly walked right into Demelza Robbins. “What’s the matter? You’re all over the place!”

“I-I don’t know, honestly,” she said when he hoisted her back. “Everything feels so fuzzy.”

He pulled her to the side, put his hands on her shoulders, and looked her in the eyes. “Have you been sleeping? Eating?”

Kit bit her lip. She’d been rather inattentive about her habits. She couldn’t really remember if she had eaten anything. She knew for a fact that she hadn’t been sleeping much— that was for certain.

Her silence was the answer he had been expecting, but also the one that worried him. “Kit Kat,” he said shakily. More guilt. This was his fucking fault. He should have pushed her away more. She could have survived perfectly well without him, and eventually, despite the pain, she would have moved on. But now, it was obvious that her involvement was taking such a toll on her that she was losing herself.

Everything was overwhelming her. There was too much work in her classes and even though she could keep up now, it was stressing her out to get everything done on time. She was losing track of time and forgetting to take care of herself. Her mind was constantly drifting toward figuring out how to bring her sister back and how to proceed with the task. She couldn’t just speak to Dumbledore about it— he was rarely there and had time only for Harry. 

In the following weeks, Draco had taken charge of making sure that her guilt wasn’t destroying her.

He’d coaxed her into speaking with Flitwick about her courses and what was troubling her, which led her to drop Ancient Runes, as she didn’t actually need it. Since she and Blaise didn’t do all that much in Care of Magical Creatures except observe creatures that Hagrid brought and keep journals, she’d elected to keep that class.

He’d made sure to attend every meal and ensure she ate and drank enough water throughout the day. Though it was clear that Kit was not enjoying the constant attention, the color was coming back to her cheeks, and Draco could see that she was looking healthier than she had.

He’d fallen asleep on the Slytherin Common Room couch every night just to be beside her, and had spoken with Snape about allowing her to do so because she was clearly having nightmares. Draco had been a bit surprised when Snape was so lenient, as he didn’t know that Snape was aware of Kit’s involvement, but all the same, he’d been pleased to be granted permission.

He’d pampered her with sweet gestures and words. Every day he told her several things that he admired about her, ranging from her looks to her personality. He’d spent a lot of time making sure that she knew that she was adequate and loved and that he appreciated what she was doing. Several nights they’d snuck into the prefect’s bathroom and he’d just massaged her or held her, under the warm water where they felt safe.

He kept reminding her how sorry he was about their predicament. He kept bringing up the fact that he was giving her an out if she no longer wanted to be a part of this. She did not take it, because even after she was feeling better, all she could fixate on was him. How much she cared for him and how much had helped her to heal numerous times. He was her everything and he treated her like a princess. His priority was her wellbeing. It reminded her why she chose to get into this in the first place, and only strengthened their bond. 

She loved him, and he loved her, but both were just afraid to say it aloud.


	75. Chapter 75

**‘Bummer’ was a recurring word in Kit’s vocabulary.**

‘Bummer’ because Dean and Ginny were having an arguing period, which resulted in a lot of tension on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

‘Bummer’ because Aragog wasn’t getting better and now Blaise and Kit were back to not doing anything for Care of Magical Creatures other than reading from textbooks. 

‘Bummer’ because Hufflepuff lost to Slytherin at the next match, which meant they had a low chance of winning the Quidditch Cup.

‘Bummer’ because Kit, Draco, and Harry weren’t going to be seventeen in time for the first Apparition test date, meaning the two boys would have to take it in the summer.

‘Bummer’ because Kit wouldn’t be seventeen in time for the second Apparition test date, meaning she’d have to wait a whole year even though she’d successfully Apparated three times already.

‘Bummer’ because Harry still wouldn’t let Kit see his Potions book, still fearing she and Hermione would tear it to shreds if they got their hands on it.

‘Bummer’ because Kit hadn’t been able to find enough on Horcruxes yet to help Harry, who apparently needed some knowledge to get a memory out of Slughorn for Dumbledore.

‘Bummer’ because as close as she was to figuring out how to help her sister, she was still hopelessly useless to Alana and empty-handed when it came to evidence.

“I swear, I’m so fucking close,” hissed Kit as she poured over her notes once again. “I have it on the tip of my bloody tongue and it just— it won’t!”

“Maybe you need to take a break from the same research,” recommended Draco, who’d just come from a session with the Vanishing Cabinet. So far, they’d managed to send one small trinket to Borgin and received another in return, but it hadn’t worked the second time they tried it, meaning that they were making progress, but not there yet, when it came to fulfilling their mission.

“You should also probably write to Alastor, or something,” said Draco. “He might be able to do something with what you have.”

And so she had. It had been a rather thick envelope detailing her train of thought and mentioning several books she’d listed as sources. It wasn’t anything concrete, but she’d handed it to Harry to give to Dumbledore at their next session to ensure that Alastor would receive it safely.

“Has your mother told you anything else?” asked Kit. “About where they are?”

“She hasn’t owled me in awhile,” answered Draco. “I don’t think they’ve contacted her in awhile. I just know they’re planning something.”

Kit winced. “I hope Alana’s doing okay. If my father is taking extra precautions to keep her mind control in place, then I fear it will only be a setback.”

Draco patted her shoulders encouragingly. “She’s going to be okay. You’re brilliant. You’ve been studying up on Muggle and Wizard Healing like no tomorrow, and I know you’ll figure it out.”

She pursed her lips. “I need to hurry it up. Alastor may have my notes but I don’t know if it will yield anything— there’s a lot I wanted to include that I couldn’t. It might be difficult for someone else to understand how my train of thought works in it.”

“I’m sure they’ll be able to follow along well enough. They’re the ones who’ll be creating the countercurse, if anything, right?”

“Well, yes, because I don’t know much about making spells from scratch. I’ll have to research that, too. It’s sometimes very hard to explain exactly what I’m thinking. Putting it into words is a taxing process that just wastes time. Most of it is in my head. If I could learn to make the spell I needed to fix her, then we could just try it out. But if it’s an ongoing repetitive process of me making notes then them trying to figure it out on their own…”

Draco thought for a moment. “Well, you could always do the Patronus thing that Alastor taught you to do. Small messages her and there, verbally, so that at least he’s getting any snippets of words you can.” He paused. “What’s it like, to conjure a Patronus?”

“It’s rather pretty, honestly,” said Kit. “It’s this… rush of joy that turns into beauty. Mine is a brown bear, and it’s very majestic. Gigantic, but sweet.”

“D’you think I’ll ever be able to make one?”

“Sure. I can try and teach you, if you’d like.”

He smiled at her. “I’d like that, very much. But all in due time. Right now— we’ve both got enough on our plates.”

“No messages from Borgin?” asked Kit lowly. “Wasn’t he going to send some parchment, or something?”

“Nothing yet— it’s not fixed enough, and he’s not sending anything unless we send something first. To make sure we’re going to receive it. The cabinet isn’t at full capacity yet. It’s going to take a bit more work.”

Kit groaned lightly. “We’ve done the spell a thousand bloody times already! How much more fixing could it need? You can’t honestly tell me a poltergeist like Peeves managed to mess it up that much.”

Draco snorted. “Have you met Peeves? He’s a secret Weasley triplet, only more unhinged.”

“I can just imagine how poor Mrs. Weasley would have suffered when they were little… Fred, George, and Peeves… triplets. Good Lord, I’d feel so bad for her.”

“My mother barely managed with just me,” said Draco. “Imagine if I had siblings?”

“Ew, I don’t know if you’d actually like that. We were a handful. I can’t imagine how my mother would have been if she was lucid often enough to be a proper mum. You and I would run around all the time…”

“We were quite mischievous on our own,” he agreed. “When I taught you to fly, we made such a mess everywhere because you kept crashing…”

“Not my fault!” she retorted. “You egged me on! Made me mad because you couldn’t be patient!”

“Not my fault either, Kit Kat. We weren’t even seven yet. How can you expect someone that young to be a good enough teacher.”

“You were terrible at giving piercings, too,” she noted, jabbing at the scar on her nose.

Draco smirked. “You’re the one who was sobbing that you wanted a piercing. I obliged, and yet you complain because I didn’t do it right. How was I supposed to know how to do it?”

“You could have picked up a book, it wouldn't have killed you. Muggle nose rings can’t have been that hard to figure out.”

“Well how about the time you tried to give me freckles like yours? You shoved your father’s wand in my face and muttered things that made my face turn blue. I remember my mother thought I was choking until she heard me laughing, and saw the wand in your hands.”

“If you hadn’t wanted to be so much like me, it needn’t have been a problem,” she pointed out, wiggling her eyebrows triumphantly. “You’ve always wanted to be like me.”

Draco raised an eyebrow skeptically. “I think it’s the other way around, Kit Kat. I was the older one. You’d have sold your soul to the devil just for a chance to be like me. You sobbed for a week about wanting blonde hair like my family.”

“Yes, and then my father beat me for having disturbed him so much with my crying,” she recalled. “How about when you wanted to have brown hair? You were jealous because back when Millicent and the others used to come over, you were the only platinum blond one.”

“Bah, it was just a phase. I enjoy my hair now, you know. And if I recall correctly, you enjoy it a lot too.”

She scrunched her nose up playfully. “Flatter yourself all you want, but I always thought you might have looked better with pink and purple locks.”

They both were quiet for a bit, and Draco made a face. “You know, looking back, it really is a good thing we didn’t have siblings. We’d have been unstoppable.”

Kit thought for a moment. “See, here’s the thing. Technically, I have a sister, but oftentimes, I don’t inherently think of myself as anything other than an only child. It’s not like we were raised together. She’s the same age as Harry’s parents and Sirius and Remus. It’s like a whole other lifetime. Can you imagine— if she and Rabastan had had a kid right away, I might have a nephew or niece that might have been slightly older than me, or the same age, or a tad younger?”

“That would have been strange. Technically, then, you would have considered them a sibling. Because if in that reality, the whole Azkaban thing still happened, then your parents probably would have raised that child.”

“Oh bloody hell, on second thought, I don’t want to think of such an unfortunate thing,” said Kit. “I wouldn’t have been able to stand seeing anyone else get beaten.”

It was strange to think about how much everything had changed. Before, Kit’s greatest issue was worrying about whether she was going to be beat when she got home or not. Now, it was about whether she’d be killed or not whenever she left Hogwarts. Things were not the same, and they never would be again.

“It’s been almost three years since we started talking again,” Draco noticed, putting his arm around her. “Three years…”

“I remember you were so jealous of Harry and kept taunting me saying I was shagging him,” she said, poking his side and making him turn pink. 

“I was an idiot, we all know that.”

“And then the whole Cedric thing was happening, and our marriage was just announced…”

“And now he’s dead and the marriage was disbanded…”

“And I was getting abused by an impostor Professor and my parents…”

“And now he’s permanently loony or dead and your mum’s no longer alive…”

They shared a look, aware of how morbid they were being, but finding comfort in acknowledging the terrible truths that had preceded this moment. It showed Kit how much they had grown, not only as a couple, but as individuals. 

Long ago, Draco had been the worst of the lot. He was selfish and rude, pompous and arrogant. His narcissistic and cruel nature was his widely known identity. Everyone was afraid of being near him if they weren’t already friends. He insulted everyone he could and said the meanest thing without remorse. He was truly intolerable and a bastard.

Now, he was sweet. Still temperamental but considerate. Loyal and a good listener. Patient and selfless. Determined and helpful. He had become the better man he aimed to be, and Kit was delighted to know him.

“Kit?” 

She looked over at him. “Yes, Draco?”

“I don’t think I ever thanked you for that day,” he started, “when I was turned into a ferret and everyone laughed at me. You came to see me and I shoved you away. I was rude to you when you were checking in on me. I was terrible, and yet, you were the only one who was worried about me that day. You made me feel seen and valued. No one else has ever really taken the time to get to know the real me. One bad deed, they brush it off. I suppose I deserved that. But you… never lost faith in me. You’re still here now.”

She felt her eyes welling up with tears. She wasn’t sure why. Perhaps his words had just been too touching. Perhaps it was all the admiration she had for him that was making her feel emotional. She was so proud of his growth, of who he was now.

“So, what I mean, in more simple terms, is thank you, Kit Kat,” he breathed. “Thank you, for everything.”

“Always, Draco,” she answered, pulling him in for a kiss.

**_**

Kit didn’t understand why Snape felt the need to be such a fucking dick all the time.

“Hurry up,” said Snape coldly as everyone got their things organized, and extracted their textbooks. He scowled over them, clearly not in a good mood that day. 

“Before we start, I want your dementor essays,” said Snape, waving his wand carelessly, so that twenty-five scrolls of parchment soared into the air and landed in a neat pile on his desk. “And I hope for your sakes they are better than the tripe I had to endure on resisting the Imperius Curse. Now, if you will all open your books to page— what is it, Mr. Finnigan?”

“Sir,” said Seamus, “I’ve been wondering, how do you tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost? Because there was something in the paper about an Inferius—”

“No, there wasn’t,” said Snape in a bored voice.

“But sir, I heard people talking—”

“If you had actually read the article in question, Mr. Finnigan, you would have known that the so-called Inferius was nothing but a smelly sneak thief by the name of Mundungus Fletcher.”

“I thought Snape and Mundungus were on the same side,” muttered Harry to Ron and Hermione, which Kit craned over to listen, since she knew Mundungus was someone from the Order who she hadn’t met formally yet. “Shouldn’t he be upset Mundungus has been arrest—”

“But Potter seems to have a lot to say on the subject,” said Snape, pointing suddenly at the back of the room, his black eyes fixed on Harry. “Let us ask Potter how we would tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost.”

The whole class looked around at Harry, who hastily tried to come up with something. “Er— well— ghosts are transparent—” 

“Oh, very good,” interrupted Snape, his lip curling. “Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. ‘Ghosts are transparent.’”

Several people were smirking, but honestly, Kit didn’t think he was actually wrong. Obviously, it wasn’t the most correct answer, but if seeing a ghost and Inferius side by side, that would be the most obvious difference.

Harry took a deep breath and continued calmly, though Kit knew his insides were boiling with rage, “Yeah, ghosts are transparent, but Inferi are dead bodies, aren’t they? So they’d be solid—”

“A five-year-old could have told us as much,” sneered Snape. “The Inferius is a corpse that has been reanimated by a Dark wizard’s spells. It is not alive, it is merely used like a puppet to do the wizard’s bidding. A ghost, as I trust that you are all aware by now, is the imprint of a departed soul left upon the earth, and of course, as Potter so wisely tells us, transparent.”

“Well, what Harry said is the most useful if we’re trying to tell them apart!” said Ron loudly. “When we come face-to-face with one down a dark alley, we’re going to be having a look to see if its solid, aren’t we, we’re not going to be asking, ‘Excuse me, are you the imprint of a departed soul?’”

There was a ripple of laughter, instantly quelled by the look Snape gave the class.

“Ten points from Gryffindor,” said Snape. “I would expect nothing more sophisticated from you, Ronald Weasley, the boy so solid he cannot Apparate half an inch across a room.”

Both Harry and Kit opened their mouths to snarl, but Hermione and Draco had already perfected their reflexes to grasp their arms and keep them from saying anything.

Kit, of course, decided not to spat anything out. Instead, she raised her hand.

“Thompson, what in Merlin’s name is so important that you must add on?” Snape said sharply.

“Well, I think you’re hounding Harry and Ron for the wrong reasons,” she said calmly, pretending she wasn’t giving him cheek. “After all, you asked for the difference without specifics. I, for one, assumed you meant a side by side visual difference, not textbook definition. It’s like Ron said.”

There were a few ‘oohs’ of agreement, but Snape was unamused as ever. “Ten points from Ravenclaw, Thompson. When I want to be questioned in idiotic, smart-arse ways, I will ask for it explicitly. And certainly not from you.”

Kit didn’t look displeased, but she wasn’t satisfied, either. It’d been awhile since she went off on Snape, and she was quite honestly itching for that kind of excitement again.

“I just mean you should be more specific next time,” said Kit with a shrug. 

Snape glared at her. “You’d better hope your dementor essay is an Outstanding, otherwise, I’ll have a chat with Professor Flitwick about whether you deserve to be in this class.”

Kit shrugged. “Have at it. Everyone here can testify that you’ll promise to grade fairly, won’t you? Because otherwise… well, we all know that you’ll give me a P just to get me in trouble.”

Snape’s lip curled. “Even grading fairly, I wouldn’t expect more than a P from you, Thompson.” she refrained from reacting to this, even though it had only ticked her off more. 

“Now open your books to page two hundred and thirteen,” said Snape, smirking a little, “and read the first two paragraphs on the Cruciatus Curse.”

When the bell sounded at the end of the lesson and they made their way out of the door, Su wasted no time in abusing Snape hotly with a string of curses. “Honestly, none of you were wrong!” she said irritably. “That man is an idiotic prat who’s only bitter because he hasn’t had anyone ever love him before.”

Ron snorted and put his arm around her, the two going to spend their free period out in the courtyard.

“She’s right,” muttered Draco from beside Kit, his bag hanging loosely at his side. “Dunno what’s got Snape’s knickers in a twist. How long has it been since he spoke to a woman who wasn’t McGonagall, Sprout, Pomfrey, Sinistra, Vector, Burbage, or Trelawney?”

“I feel terribly for them,” said Kit solemnly. “The Professors’ dating pool is terrible. Can you imagine Professor Sinistra trying to get a date? She always used to talk about how she hasn’t married yet…”

“Haven’t you heard?” asked Draco very seriously. “Sinistra and Vector are going out.”

“What?” said Kit, bewildered. “Are you serious?”

He smirked. “Not that I know of, but hey, it could be true.”

She smacked him in the chest. “Prat. I actually believed that.”

“And whose fault is that? You’re so naive.”

They’d gone to the Slytherin Common Room to get started on their assignments. Seeing it was rather empty, they’d gone to Draco’s dorm, and found none of the boys were there. Kit settled nicely onto Draco’s bed, laying out her parchment and setting her quills on the nightstand. “This is comfortable. I can’t believe you tolerate sleeping on the couch when you have this.”

“Well, I can’t bring you in here when the boys are here,” he said, going under his bed and extracting some new parchment packages, since he’d run out of sheets. “Theo is annoying and Crabbe and Goyle are just stupid. Plus, we could get in trouble sleeping in the same bed.”

“Ooh, how scandalous,” she teased. “I’m so scared.”

“You should be scared. They can take your Captaincy. It’s no laughing matter.”

“Doesn’t Urquhart bring girls to his room all the time?”

“Well, he’s best friends with Warrington. He won’t dare give him trouble.”

“Warrington has been a rather tolerable Head Boy. I was sort of surprised.”

“He’s never been that bad. He’s lenient but he tries to be fair. Obviously, he favors Slytherin, but it could have been a lot worse. I think he and Elena Carmichael are going out by now. The two of them, stuck in a shared dorm… it was bound to happen.”

Kit furrowed her eyebrows. “D’you think the Professors choose Head Boy and Girl based on who they want to end up together? Oftentimes, they end up dating for awhile. I know Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater went out, and I think Roger Davies and Alicia Spinnett were a thing, briefly.”

“Maybe. What else would they do in the staff room, discuss the weather? They’re definitely scheming things in there. They probably talk about all of us. Spread gossip.”

Kit flushed. “That gave me a very bad visual of McGonagall hearing about the rumors that you and I are getting super intimate.”

Draco scrunched his nose up. “Eh, I don’t mind if McGonagall knows, I feel she’s not the judgy type. I’d lose my mind if I found out that Sprout knew. She’d be horrified.”

“Oh, bless her,” murmured Kit. “Bloody hell— and _Flitwick_. He’s been a father figure to me ever since I came here. That’s… wow.”

Draco shook his head quickly as if wanting to force the thoughts out of his head. “You know, I think I’m going to shower now that the boys aren’t here. Let you work for a bit without bothering you.”

“Alright,” she said as he dug into his trunk and got his clothes ready, taking them into the bathroom once he got his towel.

She heard the water begin to run and hummed, her mind wandering back to their conversation.

_A/N: You already know what time it is ;) This will last until the end of the chapter._

She was bored within the first minute. She could hear Draco humming, and she bit her lip, impulsively getting up and setting her assignments aside. She raised her wand and cast a charm to lock the door and muffle any noise, before slipping off her robes and letting them lay on his bed. The clothes she had under were still on. She kicked her shoes off and started to undo her blouse and tie, discarding it before peeling off her skirt and tights. In only her underwear, she crept toward the bathroom, seeing he’d drawn the curtain over the stall he was in.

He was still humming as she tiptoed over, careful not to make too much noise. She hoped she wouldn’t scare him. He’d likely know that she was the only person who could possibly be sneaking up to him at this time. 

He had his back facing her as she approached him. Parting the curtain, she felt her cheeks redden as she reached her hand out to place her palm over his shoulder blade, feeling the muscles rippling underneath when he registered the touch. He looked at her over his shoulder, and she could feel him getting slightly tense.

She bit her lip and undid her brassiere as he turned to face her. She kept her eyes locked into his, her chest thumping as she dropped her underwear and stepped under the water with him, placing her arms around his neck wordlessly, and casting him such an innocent look that he couldn’t hold back.

He leaned down immediately, kissing her roughly, hands already trailing over the exposed parts of her he was seeing in daylight for the first time. Her skin tingled at his touch but she didn’t back away. Despite the obvious hunger and want, he was gentle in his movements, exploring and giving tentative touches before each proceeding, so that she had every freedom to stop him whenever she wished. She didn’t, and instead, did some touching of her own, making him throw his head back in pleasure.

“Are you sure about this?” he panted quietly, his voice raspy and low. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m sure,” she whispered when he looked back down at her. “Never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“What if our fathers find out? It’s risky.”

“They don’t need to ever know,” she insisted. “They don’t.”

He hesitated. He wanted to, he did. But there was so much uncertainty in the future. Neither was seventeen yet, meaning that they were still under their fathers’ jurisdiction whether they liked it or not.

“Not yet,” he said, caressing her lower back. “But I promise, soon. For now… let me please you this time.”

She hadn’t objected. If he didn’t feel it was the time for that yet, then that was okay with her. She could wait. For him, she would do anything.

He started to kiss down her neck, between her breasts, and down her abdomen, making her lean back against the wall as he sank down slowly, crouching underneath her. He pulled one of her legs onto his shoulders.

Draco had been right, earlier, she did enjoy his hair a lot. Especially when it gave her a proper hold to pull as he moved his tongue in all the right places.


	76. Chapter 76

**While their friends practiced Apparating in Hogsmeade, Kit and Draco worked with the Vanishing Cabinet.**

“Can inanimate objects like this succumb to diseases of sorts?” huffed Kit, wanting to kick the cabinet. “Why is it so stubborn?”

“I think you’re only mad because you have to wait to do your Apparition test until after seventh year has begun,” Draco pointed out. He was on the floor, polishing parts of the cabinet, as Borgin had managed to send a short note stating that proper outer care might help it fix itself faster.

Kit grumbled. “It works fine. Why on Earth do we need it to be in absolute perfect condition? He can send us any materials necessary.”

This was the problem. Draco had not yet told Kit why the Vanishing Cabinet was actually so important. Yes, materials were its primary purpose, but Draco had been instructed to prepare for a Death Eater infiltration of Hogwarts. He couldn’t bear to tell this to Kit— it was better she did not know, so that she would not act rashly and put herself in danger. Once Borgin let him know that the others were ready on the opposite end, he’d have to get Kit away, somehow.

“Why can’t it be like the closet to Narnia?” asked Kit as she slumped down beside Draco. 

He raised an eyebrow. “It sort of is, if you think of it.”

“Not really. It takes us to Borgin and Burke’s. That’s boring.”

“You’d rather be trapped in a snowy wasteland?”

“Oh bloody hell, you didn’t read the books in enough detail. I bet you haven’t even heard of Prince Caspian.”

Draco faltered. “There’s more than one book?” He then dodged a strike as she moved to smack him with a nearby cushion. “Kit Kat, I didn’t read fantasy books as much as you did! Realistic fiction or Potions textbooks!”

“You’re quite lame, Smok,” she said, shaking her head as though this was breaking her heart. “I cannot be with a man who hasn’t read Prince Caspian.”

“Well, get the book to me and I’ll read it, then. What book number is it?”

“It’s number four, technically, I believe, but also often considered number two.”

Draco snorted. “See, they can’t even come to a consensus. Just create your own Narnia.”

“I would, if this bloody Cabinet wasn’t such a prat.”

“At least it’s almost completely fixed, you know? That’s something to be proud of. It helped that we did the spell as often as possible, and it helped that you kept mending parts that seemed slightly off. It’s going to be in the best condition possible to receive anything we need.”

“They better send us a feast cooked by your mother, otherwise, I do not want it.”

Later in the Great Hall at lunch, Kit had been seated with Su at the Gryffindor Table, their ties tucked in their pockets, since Blaise and Draco had gone to practice.

“I did it!” said Ron enthusiastically as Kit and Harry joined them. “Well, kind of. I was supposed to be Apparating to outside Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop and I overshot it a bit, ended up near Scrivenshafts, but at least I moved!”

“Good one,” said Harry. “How’d you do, Hermione?”

“Oh, she was perfect,” said Su, before Hermione could answer. “Literally no flaws.”

“Perfect deliberation, divination, and desperation or whatever the hell it is,” added Ron. “We all went for a quick drink in the Three Broomsticks after and you should’ve heard Twycross going on about her— I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t pop the question soon.”

“Ah, he’ll beat Blaise to it!” Su said dramatically, making Hermione cover her face.

“How’d it go for you and Blaise, Su?” asked Kit, since Hermione looked flustered.

Su winced. “I mean, it’s alright. Same as Ron— I’ve only been able to do it once. I think I’m getting the hang of it now, but I don’t think I’m going to pass. Blaise on the other hand… well, he’s not far after Hermione in terms of being good at it. Still uncertain of himself.”

“You’ll all do fine,” assured Kit. “Don’t worry. Just make sure to concentrate and believe in yourself.”

Ron snorted. “Thank you, Miss Pessimist.”

“Hey, just because I’m a pessimist most times doesn’t mean I can’t be uplifting.”

Su and Ron shared a look, and Kit narrowed her eyes. “Do you two have an inside joke or something I don’t know about?”

At this, each of them raised an eyebrow and made a face at each other.

“Nevermind,” sighed Kit. “Couple antics, I suppose.”

Su grinned. “What, don’t tell me you and Draco don’t do that when someone says something that strikes you both as funny or interesting?”

“I mean, do you even do anything other than snog and shag?” asked Ron bluntly, making Hermione smack him on the back of the head as Su howled with laughter. 

“Don’t be so nosy, Ron!” said Hermione sharply. “It’s her business!”

Kit blushed. It felt awkward. Not because of the question— in fact, if things were true, she honestly wouldn’t have been so flustered and hesitant to answer. It was because of the fact that she and Draco were being sneaky that she felt very put on the spot. Harry was pretending he wasn’t paying attention, likely to avoid making her feel embarrassed, but Kit suspected that he was still keeping an eye on Draco using the Marauder’s Map, and by now, he had to know that Kit was disappearing everywhere with Draco.

Patches of bright blue sky were beginning to appear over the castle turrets, a sign of the approaching summer. Kit and Draco were feeling prouder because their work on the Vanishing Cabinet seemed to be paying off. They’d been able to send quite many random things over to Borgin and had received them back with notes of how they should proceed with testing that the cabinet was working.

On the date that the others were going to take their Apparition tests, Kit had been sitting with Su, Ron, Hermione, and Harry in the courtyard. Blaise and Draco were having a meeting with Snape about some issues with the Quidditch team— obviously, Urquhart was not being very warm since Slytherin had taken two losses and was not faring well for the Cup.

“Harry Potter?” said a small girl, approaching them timidly. “I was asked to give you this.”

“Thanks...” he said awkwardly, taking the small scroll of parchment. He unrolled it and found a very sad note. 

_"Dear Harry, Ron and Hermione!_

_Aragog died last night. Harry and Ron, you met him and you know how special he was._

_Hermione, I know you’d have liked him. It would mean a lot to me if you’d nip down for the burial later this evening. I’m planning on doing it round dusk, that was his favorite time of day._

_I know you’re not supposed to be out that late, but you can use the cloak. Wouldn’t ask, but I can’t face it alone._

_Hagrid."_

“Look at this,” said Harry, handing the note to Hermione.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said, scanning it quickly and passing it to Ron, who read it through looking increasingly incredulous. 

“He’s mental!” he said furiously. “That thing told its mates to eat Harry and me! Told them to help themselves! And now Hagrid expects us to go down there and cry over its horrible hairy body!”

“It’s not just that,” said Hermione. “He’s asking us to leave the castle at night and he knows security’s a million times tighter and how much trouble we’d be in if we were caught.”

“We’ve been down to see him by night before,” said Harry.

“Yes, but for something like this?” said Hermione. “We’ve risked a lot to help Hagrid out, but after all— Aragog’s dead. If it were a question of saving him—”

“—I’d want to go even less,” said Ron firmly. “You didn’t meet him, Hermione. Believe me, being dead will have improved him a lot.”

Su looked down at the note sadly. “Well, I’m sure Hagrid will understand if you can’t make it, but maybe you should comfort him in person earlier if you’re not planning on going. Though… if you were to use the Invisibility Cloak, I’m sure any two of you that can go would mean a lot to him.”

Ron winced at her. “I mean, that’s a solid idea, but… spiders…”

“I can go,” said Kit, shifting in her seat. “I don’t know Hagrid as well as you lot do but I can tolerate being around a dead spider carcass. I don’t mind sneaking about.”

“Kit, it’s such a pointless thing to get detention for,” Hermione chided. “You can get your prefect status revoked.”

“I’ve never cared all that much about the rules— it wouldn’t be the end of the world. I can always go alone.” She looked up hopefully at Harry, who seemed to want to go, for Hagrid’s sake, but Hermione shook her head.

“Harry, don’t think of it,” she insisted. “Kit might have a bit more of an upper hand if she’s caught, but you can get in a lot of trouble. And both of you together is a chaotic combination.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “I s’pose Hagrid’ll have to bury Aragog without us.”

“Yes, he will,” said Hermione, looking relieved. “Look, Potions will be almost empty this afternoon, with us all off doing our tests… Try and soften Slughorn up a bit then!”

“Fifty-seventh time lucky, you think?” said Harry bitterly. 

“Lucky,” said Ron suddenly. “Harry, that’s it— get lucky!” 

“What d’you mean?”

“Use your lucky potion!”

Su gasped. “Ron— that’s brilliant! I don’t know what the memory is, but it seems really important, so maybe even a little bit of Felix Felicis might help!"

“She’s right, Harry,” said Ron. “It is important. It’s not like you have to take the whole bottle. Back us up, Hermione, Kit!”

“Yes, a small amount will induce luck,” Kit said. “Harry— you should take it.”

Harry did not immediately answer, as if still thinking it over. “Harry? Are you still with us?” asked Hermione.

“Wha—? Yeah, of course,” he said, pulling himself together. “Well… okay. If I can’t get Slughorn to talk this afternoon, I’ll take some Felix and have another go this evening.”

“That’s decided, then,” said Hermione briskly, getting to her feet and performing a graceful pirouette. “Destination… determination… deliberation...” she murmured.

“Oh, stop that,” Ron begged her, “I feel sick enough as it is!” He then looked up as two girls passed nearby them. “Blimey, they don’t look happy, do they?”

“They’re the Montgomery sisters and of course they don’t look happy, didn’t you hear what happened to their little brother?” said Hermione.

“I’m losing track of what’s happening to everyone’s relatives, to be honest,” said Ron with a wince, which made Su’s lip quirk up slightly.

“Well, their brother was attacked by a werewolf. The rumor is that their mother refused to help the Death Eaters. Anyway, the boy was only five and he died in St. Mungos, they couldn’t save him.”

“He died?” repeated Harry, shocked. “But surely werewolves don’t kill, they just turn you into one of them?”

“They sometimes kill,” said Su pensively. “I’ve heard of it happening when the werewolf gets carried away. The brutality of the process, depending on the wolf, can be deadly.”

“What was the werewolf’s name?” said Harry quickly.

“Well, the rumor is that it was that Fenrir Greyback,” said Hermione.

“I knew it— the maniac who likes attacking kids, the one Lupin told me about!” said Harry angrily.

Hermione looked at him bleakly. “Harry, you’ve got to get that memory,” she said. “It’s all about stopping Voldemort, isn’t it? These dreadful things that are happening are all down to him...”

The bell rang overhead in the castle and Hermione, Su, and Ron jumped to their feet, looking terrified.

“You’ll all do very well,” said Kit, trying to be more encouraging. “Trust yourselves. Good luck.”

There were only four of them in Potions that afternoon: Kit, Draco, Harry, and Ernie.

“All too young to Apparate just yet?” said Slughorh genially, “Not turned seventeen yet?”

“I won’t turn seventeen for the longest time,” said Kit glumly as she put her head down a bit. 

“Ah well,” said Slughorn cheerily, “as we’re so few, we’ll do something for fun. I want you all to brew me up something amusing!”

“That sounds good, sir,” said Ernie sycophantically, rubbing his hands together. 

Draco glared at Slughorn. As time had gone on and he’d received little to no acknowledgement for his work, he’d grown more bitter in Slughorn’s class. “What do you mean, ‘something amusing?’” he asked a bit irritably. 

“Oh, surprise me,” said Slughorn airily.

Draco and Kit both opened their copies of Advanced Potion-Making. Kit looked through the index and found nothing that drew her attention. She turned to the back cover where she’d kept written notes of other potions she’d discovered during her research for her sister’s condition. Extracting the instructions for an Anti-Paralysis Potion, she got to work.

Beside her, Draco had picked a Laughing Potion, which albeit complicated, looked rather interesting to make. He, of course, had almost no difficulty going through it, though he came a little short on time. Nevertheless, he’d done a very good job of it.

“Let’s see what you’ve managed to create,” said Slughorn an hour and a half later, clapping his hands together and coming around, first to Ernie, who seemed to have tried making his own potion. There was a sort of purple lump at the bottom of his cauldron, and Slughorn grimaced ever so slightly. He came to where Kit and Draco were seated. “Oh, very complex, Mr. Malfoy, but the precision is quite remarkable. And you, Miss Thompson? My, you get better every day— I think you might be naturally gifted in any Potion that deals with Healing. Like your uncle, I daresay— he was gifted with Healing skills as well.”

But, of course, Harry had outshone the class again, having made ‘An Elixir to Induce Euphoria,’ no doubt an attempt to try and get the memory out of Slughorn. 

“Euphoria, I take it?” Slughorn inquired when he peered into Harry’s cauldron. “And what’s that I smell? Mmmm… you’ve added just a sprig of peppermint, haven’t you? Unorthodox, but what a stroke of inspiration, Harry, of course, that would tend to counterbalance the occasional side effects of excessive singing and nose-tweaking...I really don’t know where you get these brain waves, my boy...unless— it’s just your mother’s genes coming out in you!”

“Oh...yeah, maybe,” said Harry, relieved.

The bell rang, and Ernie, Draco, and Kit left at once.

“Always the Chosen One,” sneered Draco lowly as he shouldered his bag. “He’s just getting lucky— maybe he’s managed to multiply his Felix Felicis and is taking two drops every day before classes so that he can pass.”

Kit shrugged. She knew if she told Draco about the Half-Blood Prince’s book, he’d start a riot. “I guess it’s the luck of not having Snape as a teacher.”

“Snape’s just annoying,” huffed Draco. “Can’t stand him. Always shoving his ruddy face where it doesn’t belong…” he dropped his voice. “Did you know? He approached me the other day after practice and was asking for updates. Who does he think he is? As if he deserves to know. I’m doing this to protect my mother, but sure, it might restore the Malfoy name to glory. I bet he’d like nothing more than to cause me to fail and steal that glory… he and my father don’t get along like they used to.”

“I mean, you told me that your mother asked him to protect you. He’s just following through. He’s a prat. If he wants to diminish your value, don’t let him. You’re worth more than that, and you outshine him. If he wants glory he can screw himself. You’re doing this to protect someone you love.”

Draco gave her an almost pained smile. “And it better amount to something, otherwise, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“It _will_ amount to something. You’re so close already. I know it. Everything is going to be alright. We… we’ll fix that Vanishing Cabinet completely. You’ll get the main task done and we’ll come back seventh year and just… finish up and escape, or something.”

“Everything is so uncertain. I, for one, don’t know if I’m going to want to come back, depending how things are. It might be far too dangerous. If I succeed, then the Dark Lord will have a huge advantage. Your father will likely come out of hiding.”

Kit shivered a bit. “Oh, yeah… I have been trying not to think about what he could possibly be doing right now.”

“Whatever it is, he’s getting something ready. I think that your father’s working to take over the Ministry, and bring it to the Dark Lord’s disposal. He’s been mind controlling several members for years already, and it would be a gigantic advantage to the Dark Lord if the Ministry falls into his clutches. Any resistance will have to stand alone. They could monitor everything and have access to tools that will only benefit the Death Eaters.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I wonder… if we were to kill my father, would everyone under his mind control be freed? He wouldn’t be around to refresh the spell. And as far as I know, he doesn’t share that knowledge with anyone— not if it can be used against him. I think he made my sister have a different spell for multiple reasons— one being so Rabastan wouldn’t find out how his spellmaking works.”

“Your father is wickedly brilliant, emphasis on the wicked. He makes spells with ease but yes, you might be right— there has to be a weak point in that. Either way… him dying will be only beneficial. You say Alastor already knows a spell that would have removed your mother’s curse, right?”

“Yes. I assume that same variation has been used on the countless people. I don’t think he’s used Alana’s version on anything else. I suspect hers has something to do with Horcruxes. Not that she is one herself— actually, well, I dunno if they can be people— but Harry’s given me a few notes and I’ve given him some of the ones I took. I think that dark magic theory behind Horcruxes was applied to her. Meaning that most likely, hers is one of a kind, which is good for Alastor because they don’t need to create multiple spells. But bad for us because… well, it means there’s a greater issue at hand with Alana.”

Draco pursed his lips. “Well, she was obviously very intelligent. That expertise would have been valuable. She married into a Death Eater family and would have been involved even if she wasn’t under mind control. She was young and had ties to those who stood against the Dark Lord.. maybe he thought they could weaponize her as a double agent, or something.”

Kit wrung her hands together. “The young thing that you mentioned,” she murmured. “In all my research so far, I can determine that the curse is definitely only affecting her brain and not her body. My mother’s curse took a toll on her, along with her age, and she was always volatile and weak, physically.”

“And on top of that, you’re thinking that Horcrux theory was applied somehow to make the curse take over her mind so that she would think that her real self was that evil version, which would make her completely willing to do anything they asked her to. Some really dark magic was used to keep her tied in very strongly, almost like she was going to be tasked with something that required the utmost loyalty.”

It came to Kit’s mind, and her eyes widened. “No… no… unless? I have to get to the library, come on.”

She pulled him into a run and he followed, matching pace easily, though looking significantly confused at what she was planning. Kit was running the idea through her head. Alana was special for a reason, clearly, and she was certain that she knew exactly why. The Horcrux theory would only make sense like that— it would explain exactly why she was thoroughly convinced that her true self was what her father wanted her to be. It was why she was kept so safely in Azkaban, secretly and comfortably. It was why her father had taken the extra precaution and done the extra work so that she wouldn’t be able to break out of the spell.

She dashed into the library and went to her usual spot, bringing book after book and beginning to look through them, eyes scanning at top speed over the page. Draco was looking a bit concerned, not yet knowing what she meant. After all, he knew that she wasn’t yet close to finding out the exact mechanisms plaguing Alana’s brain. Right now, all she was finding was the confirmation she needed to support her theory behind the reason it was done, which would grant her another key needed to complete the puzzle.

“Yes!” she shrieked, looking down at a particular page. “Yes— yes— it all makes sense! I know exactly what research I need to do from here. My father— he may be working on infiltrating the Ministry completely but that’s not his primary task! It’s to protect my sister! They’re hiding because he’s getting her remedies and rest— they’re getting her ready for what she was intended for all those years ago— you were right in a way— there _was_ supposed to be a kid that would have grown up as my sibling!”

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” said Draco, still not getting it. 

Kit looked up at him, a light shining brightly in her eyes, the gears in her head having clicked perfectly into place. “She was supposed to carry the Dark Lord’s baby!”


	77. Chapter 77

**Draco was gaping at Kit in disbelief.**

“ _What_?” he said incredulously. “But— _what_?”

“It makes perfect sense!” said Kit hurriedly, frantically pointing at the book but not moving so he could read. “Alana is from two ancient Pureblood lines. Thompson and Smiths merged for a reason with my father and mother— they wanted them to procreate and create a strong kid. That kind of background with riches and intelligence and experience— plus, the good looks that Alana inherited— she was the perfect choice for the Dark Lord. He was working up to trying to kill Harry and he thought it was going to work— he likely thought about having an heir or maybe a whole lot of them so that there would be more descendants of Salazar Slytherin! They’d be powerful and with a mother like Alana, and they’d be raised with a lot of comfort. Think— the only other woman that might have been willing would have been your aunt Bellatrix, right? She’s completely devoted to him! But she’s got the fighting experience, doesn’t she, meaning she was more useful on the battlefield than stuck raising a kid. Alana was young, healthy, inexperienced, meaning she wouldn’t be missed on the battlefield and could devote herself one hundred percent to raising a kid.”

“No— yes— I understood that,” he said quickly. “But… you really think he wanted to leave an heir? Do you think he’d want that? To be succeeded by someone?”

“I don’t think he ever meant to be succeeded by them— he’d want the child or children to be loyal to their father, born with similar power, to help him continue to dominate the world. His own flesh and blood wouldn’t dare to deny him. He thought he was going to rule everything, and every king is expected to have heirs to secure their position!”

“But wouldn’t the Horcrux magic hurt the baby? You’ve very vaguely told me what they do but they sound evil.”

“That’s the thing— it isn’t full Horcrux magic. Just theory applications that my father used for precision. I’ve read up on enough maternal and fetal development texts by now— Muggle and Wizard— to say that for the most part, there would be no side effects— not anything like a physical disability, anyway. A mental one, however— aptitude for psychosis among other things— it wouldn’t be a detriment to the Dark Lord, would it? In fact, it’d be better for him if the kid was as dark as he. Born with power and an evil mind, the kid would be an absolute perfect heir to him. And with a mother like Alana, the kid would be raised physically healthy, but be influenced heavily by the father to be a merciless killer. It’d be his own, personal army. I suppose another side effect might be infertility for the kid, but that would be the least of their problems, since magic can solve that at this point. The Dark Lord would just have Alana birth more children if necessary.”

Draco looked pained— whether it was because of all the information she was spouting out or the mere idea of Alana being impregnated by the Dark Lord, Kit did not know. He put his hand on the back of his head. “You should write to Alastor about this,” he suggested. “This is big. It could give him a clue as to how to search for your father. They must be visiting Muggle and Wizard clinics— there have to be some deaths or mysterious reports that could correlate. Alana isn’t as young as she used to be, but still young enough to carry a child, meaning they definitely must be getting her in shape for it. At this rate, if the spell on her can’t be broken— the Dark Lord will have her devoted to serving him, and there would be no chance she’d leave with the kid, or anything.”

Kit pursed her lips. “Meaning we have to try and find them before it happens. I highly doubt she’d be pregnant now— things are still clicking into motion and it’s not entirely safe. My father and the other Death Eaters need to take down the Ministry before it happens, because otherwise, if they need to go to St. Mungo’s, they won’t be able to get in and out safely.”

She started to gather her books, clutching them tightly to her chest with pieces of parchment sticking out everywhere. “I have to get to Ravenclaw Tower and write to Alastor— and I need to hurry, I have to meet Flitwick soon for a career counseling session.”

“Ah, of course Flitwick is doing those. Snape isn’t the type to care. Sprout and McGonagall just wait until seventh year to do those.”

Kit managed to peck him on the cheek as she held the books and hoped they didn’t fall at any point. She sped out of the room soon after, and arrived in her dormitory, dropping the books on her bed and writing the messiest and most incoherent letter she’d ever done. Hopefully, Alastor would be able to understand it. Kit knew it was a risk to send it via owl, so she’d need to keep it handy and give it to Harry later to get Dumbledore to deliver it to Alastor.

She put her thoughts into words as best as she could. Though she still had not completed all the research she aimed to do, she was getting closer, and Alastor’s Healer associates would have a good basis in order to make a countercurse. Kit had also made a point to tell Alastor that in the event that she found all her research but wasn’t able to completely put it all into the exact words that passed through her thoughts, she’d begin to study how to create her own spells the way her father had, and find a way to create the countercurse on her own. 

The instant she was done, she shoved the letter in an envelop and scrunched that into her pocket, speeding back out of the dormitory and leaving Lisa Turpin and Mandy Brocklehurst looking quite confused. Her shoelaces were untied as she ran, and she prayed she wouldn’t slip before reaching Flitwick’s office.

Thankfully, she didn’t trip on them until she had opened the door, meaning she was saved from a rather nasty fall.

“Kit,” Flitwick squeaked as she came in. “Right on time.”

“Sorry,” she said breathlessly. “Was—” she stopped to pant, “writing an important letter.”

She collapsed into the chair in front of his desk and huffed a few times, grateful that Flitwick didn’t pry. He only started to arrange his parchment and quills as he waited for her to recover and begin to speak.

“Well, you know why you’re here,” he stated once she was calmer. “You have chosen quite a rigorous path, and you are doing quite well. Your grades have improved significantly since you dropped Ancient Runes. You’re averaging an ‘Outstanding’ in Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures. Professor Snape writes you are at an ‘Acceptable’ level in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but I believe the real grade is more of an ‘Exceeds Expectations.’ Severus has never been one to be very accurate… all in all, you’re doing very well. Professor Sprout and Professor Hagrid have very good things to say about your work in their courses— Herbology and Care are indeed very important for aspiring Healers your age. Professor McGonagall and I both agree that your aptitude for spells is very good for someone who wants to go into Healing magic.”

He shuffled a few pieces of parchment to show where he’d written how her future might look after she graduated. “As you know, you need an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ or higher on your five core N.E.W.T.s to be considered. Through the Ministry of Magic when you turn eighteen, you will fill out an application that will let them know of your interests and abilities. There is a section of it where you can outline what emphasis you may intend to dabble in, in the future. Is there any that appeal to you now?”

Kit squirmed in her seat. “Well, anything dealing with maternal and fetal medicine is rather intriguing to me at the moment. Also, anything with the brain.”

“Good, I’m glad you’ve thought of it already. Once the Ministry of Magic is aware of what you are interested in, you will be brought into a two-year course to study the basics of Healing magic. It is a rigorous and very tiring program, as quite a bit is crammed into only two years, however, with your grades, you should not have too much difficult with it. From there, if the Ministry-approved instructors believe you will fit into more specific training for what you are interested in (and assuming you still would like to continue in what you initially chose), your application and program scores will be sent to wherever you would like to intern. Most select St. Mungo’s. However, your scores may also be sent out of the country or to smaller wizard and witch practices in the area. You will spend a year focusing on your specific emphasis, and will take an examination that will determine whether you are ready to begin practicing, with a one year probationary period.”

“Probationary?” asked Kit. “As in... I can get kicked out if I don’t do well enough?”

“Partially. You will be monitored to see how you behave without much supervision, and how you cope with emergencies that will inevitably arise. If after that year, they believe you are a good fit, you may be given a promotion, depending how well you do. If you’re not given a promotion, but are asked to stay and work there, it is nothing bad, it simply means they think you need to develop your skills more. I have no doubt that you will be very successful there.”

Kit smiled. “Thank you, Professor, that’s kind of you.”

“Only the truth, Kit,” he squeaked happily. “I’m sure that you will learn quickly, especially after all the research you’ve been doing. Those three years after graduation will be taxing, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.”

When the meeting ended, Kit left, with the parchment that outlined what her life would look like after she graduated Hogwarts. She felt nervous, thinking of all the work she still had to do, but she was confident. She knew that long ago, the Thompson line had dabbled quite a bit in Healing. Slughorn, after all, had mentioned that her uncle was gifted with Healing skills. Alana had been as well, and her father obviously understood many medical concepts, considering how he could achieve such deep rooted mind control and had forced her uncle’s body to fight against itself undetected, after he poisoned him. The problem with her father was that he had used his intelligence for evil, rather than good.

She wondered how different her life might have been if her father wasn’t who he was, and if her grandfather had never disowned her uncle. Perhaps, her father and uncle would both be Healers at St. Mungo’s. They’d see each other often, and Kit might have had several cousins, and possibly more siblings. Alana would have ended up with Sirius, and they’d have granted Kit some nephews and nieces that would have been her age. Her mother might have enjoyed having so many children around, and perhaps, they might have been happy.

But the brutal reality was not so. Her grandfather had died a bitter man, disowning his son without remorse. Her father had slowly killed his own brother and countless others, including his own wife, who’d bore him two daughters. One, he’d seized control of and sought to exploit. The other, he aimed to kill after failing to torment her in a forced marriage. Now, she was left without a mother, without a sister, without an uncle, with the fear of death and murder hanging over her head, and with the task to free her sister, which might or might not ever work.

Just another typical day for Kit Thompson. Peachy. 

Later in the afternoon, her friends had returned from their Apparition tests.

“Hermione, Su, and I passed,” Blaise announced when he saw Kit in the Great Hall. “Poor Ron got unlucky… his examiner noticed he’d left behind half his eyebrow. He’ll need to retake the test in the summer.”

To no one’s surprise, when they’d all reunited in the courtyard (except for Draco, who was taking the time to work on the Vanishing Cabinet), Ron was very heavily cursing and abusing the Apparition examiner. Of course, he looked more cheerful when Su joined in, spouting more foul words and making a nearby second year squeak in shock at the sound of such vulgar language.

“So, Harry— you going to use the Felix Felicis or what?” Ron demanded after awhile, once they’d gotten all their annoyance at Ron’s examiner out of their system.

“Yeah, I s’pose I’d better,” answered Harry. “Just a small mouthful.”

“It’s a great feeling when you take it,” said Ron reminiscently. “Like you can’t do anything wrong.”

Su let out a giggle. “What are you going on about? You’ve never taken it!”

“Yeah, but I thought I had, didn’t I?” said Ron, as though explaining the obvious. “Same difference really. I thought Harry’d slipped it into my drink before the first match.”

When the sun had set, Harry had decided it was time to take the Felix Felicis. Gathered in a nearby abandoned hallway, he’d extracted a rolled-up sock that held the bottle. 

“Well, here goes,” said Harry, and he raised the little bottle and look a carefully measured gulp. 

“What does it feel like?” whispered Su.

At first, Harry did not answer. Then, he started to smile as though he had won the lottery. “Excellent,” he replied. “Really excellent. Right— I’m going down to Hagrid’s. Kit, you need to come with me, I need your pessimistic nature.”

She blinked at him. “Well, thank you for being blunt. But why Hagrid’s? I thought you were going to see Slughorn, and we’d go to the funeral later on.”

“No,” said Harry confidently. “I’m going to Hagrid’s, I’ve got a good feeling about going to Hagrid’s.”

“You’ve got a good feeling about burying a giant spider?” asked Ron, looking stunned.

“Yeah,” said Harry, pulling his Invisibility Cloak out of his bag. “I feel like it’s the place to be tonight, you know what I mean?”

“Um, no,” said Blaise, raising an eyebrow. “I really don’t know what you mean by that. You sure you didn’t drink something else?”

“Essence of Insanity?” suggested Ron, as Harry swung his cloak over his and Kit’s shoulders.

Harry laughed, and Ron, Hermione, Su, Blaise, and Kit looked even more alarmed.

“Trust me,” he said. “I know what I’m doing… or at least, Felix does. Come on, Kit.”

She cast the others a skeptical look as she ducked under the Cloak with Harry.

Silently, she just followed where he was going. They went down, straight toward the entrance hall. The only two people they encountered along the way were Ginny and Dean, who were making their way back to Gryffindor Tower, presumably. Kit, for some reason, tripped slightly as they passed, bumping into Ginny, who immediately rounded on Dean.

“You act as though I can’t walk on my own, all the time!” she said hotly to him. “You needn’t be pushing me around all the time, I don’t need to be escorted like a fragile object!”

The smile on Harry’s face was positively gleeful, and Kit grew quite worried, glancing back as she heard Dean begin to argue with Ginny. Of course, since Harry liked Ginny, such discord between her and Dean would only benefit him.

When they reached the entrance hall, they saw that Filch had forgotten to lock the front door. Beaming at Kit, Harry threw it open and the two breathed in the smell of clean air and grass for a moment before walking down the steps into the dusk.

Kit remained eerily quiet as Harry turned to walk past the vegetable patch instead of heading straight to Hagrid’s Hut. It wasn’t completely out of the way, but it was a rather odd course to take. 

She was shocked when, as they made their way down, they found Professor Slughorn in conversation with Professor Sprout.

“Bloody creepy,” she whispered very quietly as Harry made them crouch down a bit behind a low stone wall. He looked very peaceful and pleased, as though today was the very best day in the world.

“I do thank you for taking the time, Pomona,” Slughorn was saying courteously, “most authorities agree that they are at their most efficacious if picked at twilight.”

“Oh, I quite agree,” said Professor Sprout warmly. “That enough for you?”

“Plenty, plenty,” said Slughorn, who was carrying an armful of leafy plants. “This should allow for a few leaves for each of my third years, and some to spare if anybody over-stews them… Well, good evening to you, and many thanks again!”

Professor Sprout headed off into the gathering darkness in the direction of her greenhouses, and Slughorn directed his steps to the spot where Harry and Kit stood, invisible.

Kit was startled when Harry slipped off the Cloak and pulled her up, appearing right in front of Slughorn. “Good evening, Professor,” he said courteously. 

“Merlin’s beard, Harry, you made me jump,” said Slughotn, stopping dead in his tracks and looking wary. “How did you two get out of the castle?”

“I think Filch must’ve forgotten to lock the doors,” said Harry cheerfully, which made Slughorn scowl. 

“I’ll be reporting that man, he’s more concerned about litter than proper security if you ask me… But why are you out then, Harry and Miss Thompson?”

“Well, sir, it’s Hagrid,” said Harry with ease. “He’s pretty upset...But you won’t tell anyone, Professor? I don’t want trouble for him...” 

Slughorn’s curiosity was evidently aroused. “Well, I can’t promise that,” he said gruffly. “But I know that Dumbledore trusts Hagrid to the hilt, so I’m sure he can’t be up to anything very dreadful...”

“Well, it’s this giant spider, he’s had it for years… It lived in the forest… It could talk and everything—”

“I heard rumors there were acromantulas in the forest,” said Slughorn softly, looking over at the mass of black trees. “It’s true, then?”

“Yes,” said Harry. “But this one, Aragog, the first one Hagrid ever got, it died last night. He’s devastated. He wants company while he buries it and Kit and I said we’d go.”

“Touching, touching,” said Slughorn absentmindedly, his large droopy eyes fixed upon the distant lights of Hagrid’s cabin. “But acromantula venom is very valuable… If the beast only just died it might not yet have dried out… Of course, I wouldn’t want to do anything insensitive if Hagrid is upset… but if there was any way to procure some… I mean, it’s almost impossible to get venom from an acromantula while it’s alive...”

Slughorn seemed to be talking more to himself now. “... seems an awful waste not to collect it… might get a hundred Galleons a pint… to be frank, my salary is not large...”

“Well,” Harry said, with a most convincing hesitancy, “well, if you wanted to come, Professor, Hagrid would probably be really pleased… Give Aragog a better send-off, you know...”

“Yes, of course,” said Slughorn, his eyes now gleaming with enthusiasm. “I tell you what, I’ll meet you three down there with a bottle or two… We’ll drink the poor beast’s— well— not health— but we’ll send it off in style, anyway, once it’s buried. And I’ll change my tie, this one is a little exuberant for the occasion...”

He bustled back into the castle, and Harry motioned for Kit to get back under the Invisibility Cloak. “Merlin’s ruddy fucking beard,” hissed Kit as they walked. “How the bloody hell did you know exactly what to say and where to go? Is it like— a voice in your head, or something?”

“No,” said Harry happily, as though the world ought to be rejoicing. “It’s a gut feeling. Today is splendid, isn’t it?”

“Er— yes, I suppose it is,” she said, and taking advantage of how pleased with life he looked, she handed him the letter she had written for Alastor. “Reckon you’ll be lucky enough to see Dumbledore tonight to give him this letter for Alastor? He’ll probably want to read it, too.”

Harry took it with a smile and put it in his pocket. “Certainly. I bet I’ll get lucky enough to have him come back to school tonight.”

And without another word, he kept heading to Hagrid's Hut, looking positively elated, and leaving Kit to cast him a concerned stare. 

She really hoped her pessimistic nature would be of use.


	78. Chapter 78

**When they reached Hagrid’s Hut, Kit knocked on the door.**

“Yeh came,” croaked Hagrid, when he opened it. 

“Yeah— Ron and Hermione couldn’t, though,” said Harry. “They’re really sorry.”

“Don— don matter...Hed’ve bin touched yeh’re here, though, Harry an’ Kit...”

Hagrid gave a great sob. He had made himself a black armband out of what looked like a rag dipped in boot polish, and his eyes were puffy, red, and swollen. Harry and Kit patted him consolingly on the elbow, which was the highest point of Hagrid they could easily reach.

“Where are we burying him?” Kit asked. “The forest?”

“Blimey, no,” said Hagrid, wiping his streaming eyes on the bottom of his shirt. “The other spiders won’ let me anywhere near their webs now Aragog’s gone. Turns out it was only on his orders they didn’ eat me! Can yeh believe that?”

“That’s terrible,” murmured Kit. “You’d think after so many years they’d respect how kind you’ve been.”

Hagrid let out a very shaky and guttural sigh. “Never bin an area o’ the forest I couldn’ go before!” said Hagrid, shaking his head. “It wasn’ easy, gettin’ Aragog’s body out o’ there, I can tell yeh — they usually eat their dead, see… But I wanted ter give ‘im a nice burial… a proper send-off...”

He broke into sobs again and Harry resumed the patting of his elbow (Kit assumed the potion was indicating to him that it was the right thing to do). “Professor Slughorn met us coming down here, Hagrid,” Harry noted. 

“Not in trouble, are yeh?” said Hagrid, looking up, alarmed. “Yeh shouldn’ be outta the castle in the evenin’, I know it, it’s my fault—”

“No, no, when he heard what I was doing he said he’d like to come and pay his last respects to Aragog too,” said Harry. “He’s gone to change into something more suitable, I think… and he said he’d bring some bottles so we can drink to Aragog’s memory...”

“Did he?” said Hagrid, looking both astonished and touched. “Tha’s — tha’s righ’ nice of him, that is, an’ not turnin’ yeh in either. I’ve never really had a lot ter do with Horace Slughorn before… Comin’ ter see old Aragog off, though, eh? Well… he’d’ve liked that, Aragog would...”

Kit and Harry shared a look. Kit hadn’t met the acromantulas in person, but she’d studied them, and Aragog probably would have liked the fact that Slughorn had an ample amount of edible flesh, not that he was paying his respects over a bottle of liquor. 

“Are we going to bury him here, Hagrid, in your garden?” she asked him as she looked out the rear window and saw the enormous dead spider lying on its back outside, its legs curled and tangled. 

“Jus’ beyond the pumpkin patch, I thought,” said Hagrid in a choked voice. “I’ve already dug the— yeh know— grave. Jus’ thought we’d say a few nice things over him— happy memories, yeh know—”

His voice quivered and broke. There was a knock on the door, and he turned to answer it, blowing his nose on his great spotted handkerchief as he did so. Slughorn hurried over the threshold, several bottles in his arms, and wearing a somber black cravat.

“Hagrid,” he said, in a deep, grave voice. “So very sorry to hear of your loss.”

“Tha’s very nice of yeh,” said Hagrid. “Thanks a lot. An’ thanks fer not givin Harry an’ Kit detention neither...”

“Wouldn’t have dreamed of it,” said Slughorn. “Sad night, sad night… Where is the poor creature?”

“Out here,” said Hagrid in a shaking voice. “Shall we— shall we do it, then?”

The four of them stepped out into the back garden. The moon was glistening palely through the trees now, and its rays mingled with the light spilling from Hagrid’s window to illuminate Aragog's body lying on the edge of a massive pit beside a ten-foot- high mound of freshly dug earth.

“Magnificent,” said Slughorn, approaching the spider's head, where eight milky eyes stared blankly at the sky and two huge, curved pincers shone, motionless, in the moonlight. He bent down over the pincers, examining the enormous hairy head, the distinct tinkling of bottles sounding. 

“It's not ev’ryone appreciates how beau’iful they are,” said Hagrid to Slughorn’s back, tears leaking from the corners of his crinkled eyes. “I didn’ know yeh were interested in creatures like Aragog, Horace.”

“Interested? My dear Hagrid, I revere them,” said Slughorn, stepping back from the body. “Now...shall we proceed to the burial?”

Hagrid nodded and moved forward. He heaved the gigantic spider into his arms and, with an enormous grunt, rolled it into the dark pit. It hit the bottom with a rather horrible, crunchy thud. Hagrid started to cry again.

“Of course, it’s difficult for you, who knew him best,” said Slughorn, imitating Harry in patting Hagrid’s elbows. “Why don’t I say a few words?”

In hindsight, Kit wondered how in the hell she didn’t burst out laughing and rolling on the floor from the way Slughorn’s speech sounded. His voice was slow and impressive, as though he was actually speaking at the funeral of someone influential, presumably because he’d gotten a very good amount of venom from Aragog, which would certainly keep him pleased.

“Farewell, Aragog, king of arachnids,” started Slughorn, coming toward the edge of the pit, “whose long and faithful friendship those who knew you won’t forget! Though your body will decay—” (here, his voice had dragged in such a strange way that Kit had had to mask a snort with a fake coughing fit), “your spirit lingers on in the quiet, web-spun places of your forest home. May your many-eyed descendants ever flourish and your human friends find solace for the loss they have sustained.”

“Tha was...tha was...beau’iful!” howled Hagrid, and he collapsed onto the compost heap, crying harder than ever.

“There, there,” said Slughorn, waving his wand so that the huge pile of earth rose up and then fell, with a muffled sort of crash, onto the dead spider, forming a smooth mound. “Lets get inside and have a drink. Get on his other side, Harry… That’s it… Up you come, Hagrid… Well done...”

Harry and Slughorn eased him into a chair at the table. Fang, who had been skulking in his basket during the burial, now came padding softly across to them and put his heavy head onto Kit’s lap as she sat down. She patted his head gently, having grown closer with the dog since he’d be present at every Care of Magical Creatures lesson that she and Blaise had.

Slughorn uncorked one of the bottles of wine he had brought. “I have had it all tested for poison,” he assured Harry and Kit, pouring most of the first bottle into one of Hagrid’s bucket-sized mugs and handing it to Hagrid. “Had a house elf taste every bottle after what happened to your poor friend Rupert.”

“Ron,” corrected Kit, thinking how mortified Hermione would be if she knew that Slughorn had used the house elves for that. 

“One for Harry...” said Slughorn, dividing a second bottle between three mugs, “... one for Kit… and one for me. Well” — he raised his mug high— “to Aragog.”

“Aragog,” said Harry, Kit, and Hagrid together. Both Slughorn and Hagrid drank deeply. Harry faked a gulp, and Kit merely took a small sip. 

“I had him from an egg, yeh know,” said Hagrid morosely. “‘Tiny little thing he was when he hatched. ‘Bout the size of a Pekingese”

“Sweet,” said Slughorn.

“Used ter keep him in a cupboard up at the school until… well...”

Slughorn, however, did not seem to be listening; he was looking up at the ceiling, from which a number of brass pots hung, and also a long, silky skein of bright white hair. “That’s not unicorn hair, Hagrid?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Hagrid indifferently. “Gets pulled out of their tails, they catch it on branches an’ stuff in the forest, yeh know...”

“But my dear chap, do you know how much that’s worth?”

“I use it fer bindin’ on bandages an’ stuff if a creature gets i jured,” said Hagrid, shrugging. “It’s dead useful… very strong.”

Slughorn took another deep draught from his mug, his eyes moving carefully around the cabin now, apparently looking for more treasures that he might be able to convert into a plentiful supply of oak-matured mead, crystalized pineapple, and velvet smoking jackets. He refilled Hagrid’s mug and his own, and questioned him about the creatures that lived in the forest these days and how Hagrid was able to look after them all. Hagrid, becoming expansive under the influence of the drink and Slughorn’s flattering interest, stopped mopping his eyes and entered happily into a long explanation of bowtruckle husbandry.

Harry raised his wand ever so slightly, and Kit watched him nonverbally refill the bottles. She was stunned, considering he’d not yet mastered nonverbals, and certainly not the Refilling Charm.

Slughorn and Hagrid didn’t notice at all. They were swapping tales of illegal trade in dragon eggs, which Kit recalled was how Hagrid had gotten Norbert in their first year. She’d only heard of the dragon, since she’d not yet been friends with the Gryffindor trio at that point, and wished she could have met him. 

After an hour or so, Hagrid and Slughorn began making extravagant toasts: to Hogwarts, to Dumbledore, to elf-made wine, and to—

“Harry Potter!” bellowed Hagrid, slopping some of his fourteenth bucket of wine down his chin as he drained it.

“Yes, indeed,” cried Slughorn a little thickly, “Parry Otter, the Chosen Boy Who— well— something of that sort,” he mumbled, and drained his mug too.

Not long after this, Hagrid became tearful again and pressed the whole unicorn tail upon Slughorn, who pocketed it with cries of, “To friendship! To generosity! To ten Galleons a hair!”

And for a while after that, Hagrid and Slughorn were sitting side by side, arms around each other, singing a slow sad song about a dying wizard called Odo.

“Aaargh, the good die young,” muttered Hagrid, slumping low onto the table, a little cross-eyed, while Slughorn continued to war-ble the refrain. “Me dad was no age ter go… nor were yer mum’ an’ dad, Harry...”

Great fat tears oozed out of the corners of Hagrid’s crinkled eyes again; he grasped Harry’s arm and shook it. “Bes’ wiz and witchard o’ their age… I never knew.. .terrible thing… terrible thing...”

“ _And Odo the hero, they bore him back home, To the place that he’d known as a lad_ ,” sang Slughorn plaintively. “ _They laid him to rest with his hat inside out. And his wand snapped in two, which was sad_.”

“...terrible,” Hagrid grunted, and his great shaggy head rolled sideways onto his arms and he fell asleep, snoring deeply.

“Sorry,” said Slughorn with a hiccup. “Can’t carry a tune to save my life.”

“Hagrid wasn’t talking about your singing,” said Harry quietly. “He was talking about my mum and dad dying.”

Well then. That was blunt, thought Kit. But now, at least, she knew exactly where her pessimistic nature was meant to come in handy.

“Yes, that’s exactly what he meant,” said Kit immediately. “A terrible tragedy that they were murdered.”

“Oh,” said Slughorn, repressing a large belch. “Oh dear. Yes, that was— was terrible indeed. Terrible… terrible...”

He looked quite at a loss for what to say, and resorted to refilling their mugs. “I don’t— don’t suppose you remember it, Harry?” he asked awkwardly.

“He was very little when it happened,” mused Kit aloud, going with her gut (thankfully, Harry seemed to like what she was saying). “He can’t remember exactly what happened, not like I can, having watched my mother be murdered almost a year ago.”

“Exactly,” agreed Harry, nodding along. “My dad died first. Did you know that?”

“I— I didn’t,” said Slughorn in a hushed voice.

“Yeah...Voldemort murdered him and then stepped over his body toward my mum,” said Harry.

Slughorn gave a great shudder, but he did not seem able to tear his horrified gaze away from Harry’s face.

“He told her to get out of the way,” said Harry remorselessly. “He told me she needn’t have died. He only wanted me. She could have run.”

“She could have,” continued Kit, who was naturally unfazed by all this talk of death. “She had a chance, and she didn’t. Not like my mother, who was too weak to even move.”

“Oh dear,” breathed Slughorn. “She could have… she needn’t...That’s awful… Couldn’t move…”

“It is, isn’t it?” said Harry, in a voice barely more than a whisper. “But she didn’t move. Dad was already dead, but she didn’t want me to go too. She tried to plead with Voldemort… but he just laughed...”

“That’s enough!” said Slughorn suddenly, raising a shaking hand. “Really, my dear boy, enough… I’m an old man… I don’t need to hear… I don’t want to hear...”

“I forgot,” lied Harry, Felix Felicis clearly leading him on. “You liked her, didn’t you? You knew her very well, unlike Kit’s mother.”

“Liked her?” said Slughorn, his eyes brimming with tears once more. “I don’t imagine anyone who met her wouldn’t have liked her… Very brave… Very funny… It was the most horrible thing...”

“But you won’t help her son,” said Harry. “She gave me her life, but you won’t give me a memory. Instead, you avoid the talk, even though it could help so many people. Haven’t you heard about Kit’s sister?”

Hagrid’s rumbling snores filled the cabin, and Kit took her turn to speak. “My sister is suffering under my father’s mind control, Professor, and any knowledge you can provide will save her. Otherwise, she’ll die like my mother and like Harry’s parents, after the Dark Lord forces her to bear him children.”

Harry and Kit looked steadily into Slughorn’s tear-filled eyes. The Potions master seemed unable to look away. “Don’t say that,” he whispered. “It isn’t a question… If it were to help you, of course… but no purpose can be served...”

“It can,” said Harry clearly. “Dumbledore needs information. I need information. Kit needs information.”

Looking Slughorn straight in the eye, Harry leaned forward a little. “I am the Chosen One. I have to kill him. I need that memory.”

Slughorn turned paler than ever; his shiny forehead gleamed with sweat. “You are the Chosen One?”

“Of course I am,” said Harry calmly.

“But then… my dear boy… you’re asking a great deal… you’re asking me, in fact, to aid you in your attempt to destroy—”

“You don’t want to get rid of the wizard who ruined the lives of Kit’s mother and sister? The wizard who killed James Potter? The wizard who killed Lily Evans?”

“Harry, Harry, of course I do, but—”

“You’re scared he’ll find out you helped me?”

Slughorn said nothing; he looked terrified.

“Be brave like my mother, Professor...”

Slughorn raised a pudgy hand and pressed his shaking fingers to his mouth; he looked for a moment like an enormously overgrown baby.

“I am not proud...” he whispered through his fingers. “I am ashamed of what— of what that memory shows… I think I may have done great damage that day...”

“You’d cancel out anything you did by giving me the memory,” said Harry. “It would be a very brave and noble thing to do.”

“Otherwise, the world will just descend into chaos,” noted Kit as Hagrid twitched in his sleep and snored on. “You don’t want me to lose my sister, do you? Not after I lost my mother already and not after Harry lost his parents.”

Slughorn and Harry stared at each other over the guttering candle, and Kit watched, her heart beating fast, hoping that Slughorn would concede soon. 

There was a long, long silence. Then, very slowly, Slughorn put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his wand. He put his other hand inside his cloak and took out a small, empty bottle. 

Still looking into Harry’s eyes, Slughorn touched the tip of his wand to his temple and withdrew it, so that a long, silver thread of memory came away too, clinging to the wand tip. Longer and longer the memory stretched until it broke and swung, silvery bright, from the wand. Slughorn lowered it into the bottle where it coiled, then spread, swirling like gas. He corked the bottle with a trembling hand and then passed it across the table to Harry.

“Thank you very much, Professor,” said Harry, glancing at Kit as if to let her know that it was done. 

“You’re a good boy,” said Professor Slughorn, tears trickling down his fat cheeks into his walrus mustache. “And you’ve got her eyes… Just don’t think too badly of me once you’ve seen it...”

And he too put his head on his arms, gave a deep sigh, and fell asleep.

Harry waited a few instants before beckoning for Kit to follow him out of the Hut. Back under the Invisibility Cloak they went, creeping back into the castle.

“You were perfect,” said Harry happily, though less ecstatic than before— likely a result of the Felix Felicis wearing off. “Perfectly pessimistic.”

“Glad to know I could help by being naturally morbid,” said Kit. 

They were lucky enough that the door was still unlocked as they returned to the entrance hall, but clearly, their luck was running out, since on the third floor, Peeves had almost caught them. Kit walked with Harry to the Gryffindor Tower, since she could make her way to Ravenclaw Tower afterward. 

The Fat Lady was in a very unhelpful mood when they arrived. “What sort of time do you call this?”

“I’m really sorry— I had to go out for something important,” said Harry urgently. 

“Well, the password changed at midnight, so you’ll just have to sleep in the corridor, won’t you?”

“You’re joking!” said Harry. “Why did it have to change at midnight?”

“That’s the way it is,” said the Fat Lady. “If you’re angry, go and take it up with the headmaster, he’s the one who’s tightened security.”

“This is why we have an eagle,” muttered Kit under her breath. 

“Fantastic,” said Harry bitterly, masking her comment. “Really brilliant. Yeah, I would go and take it up with Dumbledore if he was here, because he’s the one who wanted me to—”

“He is here,” said a voice behind them. “Professor Dumbledore returned to the school an hour ago.”

Nearly Headless Nick was gliding toward them, his head wobbling as usual upon his ruff. “I had it from the Bloody Baron, who saw him arrive,” said Nick. “He appeared, according to the Baron, to be in good spirits, though a little tired, of course.”

“Where is he?” said Harry, his heart leaping. 

“Oh, groaning and clanking up on the Astronomy Tower, it’s a, favorite pastime of his—”

“Not the Bloody Baron— Dumbledore!”

“Oh— in his office,” said Nick. “I believe, from what the Baron said, that he had business to attend to before turning in—”

“Yeah, he has,” said Harry, looking quite excited. The Felix Felicis had given him one last boost. He wheeled about and sprinted off again, ignoring the Fat Lady who was calling after him. “Come back! All right, I lied! I was annoyed you woke me up! The password’s still ‘tapeworm’!”

But Harry was already hurtling back along the corridor, leaving Kit to in front of the Fat Lady, holding the Invisibility Cloak.

“May I go in just to drop this off on his bed?” she inquired, holding the cloak up.

“Be quick about it,” said the Fat Lady, swinging open. Kit did as asked, sprinting up to Harry’s dormitory and tiptoeing in amidst the four sleeping boys, leaving the Cloak on Harry’s bed before sprinting back out, and going all the way to Ravenclaw Tower.

She found Su inside on the couch, fast asleep and with a book on her chest. As Kit neared her, she saw that it was one of the books she'd left on her bed earlier. Su must have been interested— the cover was glossy and bore an attractive font for the title 'Magical Motherhood: True Bizarre Facts that Witches Should Learn Before Deciding To Become Mothers.'

Kit smirked and marked the page for her, setting it down. The book went into quite a bit of detail regarding the birthing process, with some graphic diagrams and images to match with its daunting descriptions about how painful it could be.

"Su," said Kit, shaking her awake gently. "Su... we should go back to our beds..."

"Mm," Su groaned, turning away. "Too sleepy."

"Were you with Ron too late?"

"Mhm," she answered, covering her face with a pillow. "Lemme sleep."

And so, for that night, Kit remained on the other couch nearby her. Had she known what would happen the following day, she might have told Su everything she'd been hiding from her since the beginning of the school year.


	79. Chapter 79

**The next morning during Charms, Kit and Su were partnered for a task.**

“You and Ron were getting frisky, hmm?” Kit teased. “Otherwise I reckon you’d have come to the dorm earlier and fallen asleep in your bed.”

Su blushed. “Shh, don’t be so loud.”

“I wasn’t being loud, I whispered!”

Su giggled lightly, her cheeks pink. “Well, you’re not wrong. It was incredible.”

“Congratulations,” Kit told her, patting her back. “You seem quite happy with how it went.”

“I am! It’s more amazing than what you let on. You should have told me how good it felt.”

Well, that would have proved difficult, considering Kit hadn’t actually done it. But she played along. “Oh, well, I didn’t know if it would go that well the first time, it um, didn’t for me,” she lied. “Hurt a bit.”

“Yeah, it did at first, but it wasn’t that bad, we both were learning and he was gentle— really comforting. I think next time it will be a bit better, too, once we’re comfortable.”

“That certainly explains why he has a certain glow about him, today,” Kit said, smirking as she looked over at Ron, who was quite happy. “Just make sure you’re ready to ride your broomstick instead of his when we play Gryffindor in a few days—”

“Kit!” said Su, covering her face and muffling some giggles. “I did not ride his broomstick.”

“Didn’t you?” said Kit innocently.

“No, but I might next time. Have you… to Draco?”

“No, I haven't,” said Kit, so she at least wouldn’t be lying. 

Su’s eyes widened. “Really? You mean— he doesn’t mind doing the work all the time?”

Kit tried to think of their work on the Vanishing Cabinet so she wouldn’t lie again. “He doesn’t mind. He enjoys it, actually. Doesn’t want me overexerting myself.”

“Wow,” said Su. “Not that I mind having to do some work, of course— I heard it can be quite nice. But wow.”

Kit squirmed in her seat. “Er— anyway, did you hear that Ginny and Dean broke up?”

“I did!” said Su, not minding the change in conversation. “Oh— wait, Flitwick—”

They both stopped chatting as he made his way toward them. “Let’s see, girls, did you turn your vinegar into wine yet?”

Kit and Su both showed him their goblets, which were full of deep crimson liquid.

“Very good,” he said happily, moving on to the next row of students.

“Anyway,” said Su, “I heard they broke up for some really random reason though— like, Dean pushed Ginny or something and she was saying he wasn’t letting her be independent, blah blah blah.”

Kit was marveling at how accurate the Felix Felicis had been last night. Harry’s luck had included Kit tripping and causing a break up.

“Sucks for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, though,” mused Su. “Dean and Ginny won’t be as coordinated at our match. But— better for us! We’re going to have the upper hand. All us Chasers have our formations down really well. And I’m glad Declan has improved so much— are you sure about him replacing Stewart as Keeper?”

“Yep,” Kit answered. “I think he’s the one we need to stand a chance against Ginny and Demelza. As for Seeking… you reckon you want to do it this time? I think you’ll give Harry a run for his money— better than what Cho can do against him. She hasn’t been trying all that hard lately, she’s really stressed about her N.E.W.T.s.”

Su beamed up at her. “You think so? I really really would like to play Seeker this time. Stephen and Orla worked really well with you in the practice match we had.”

Kit nodded. “I think it’s the decision to make.”

“Oh, I love having you as Captain!” she sighed, putting her arms around her. “You’re fair and all that!”

Kit raised a brow. “I’m also your best friend, so you get a teensy bit of favoritism. As unbiased as favoritism can be…”

“Ah, I know it’s not really that— you’re logical in all of this. Even Cho says you strategize better than Roger ever did. But maybe that’s because he and the other boys who graduated had been playing together for so long, they didn’t need so much strategy work.”

“You still get favoritism,” Kit pointed out. “Just a small amount of it, but an amount nevertheless.”

“Glad to be on the Captain’s good side, then,” Su said, wiggling her eyebrows. 

After the free period they’d had following Charms, they’d had Herbology, where, as usual, Professor Sprout had presented them with a very dangerous plant to work with. Kit was rather good at dealing with them, but no one in the class was as good as Neville. 

“I reckon Longbottom is actually going to teach Herbology,” Draco mused as they made their way to lunch. He held onto his stomach. “Bloody Merlin, I’m starving.”

“Well, you won’t be, soon,” said Kit. “And yes, I can see him teaching it. He deals with those Fluxweed plants like nobody’s business. That’ll change the whole Herbology teacher being Hufflepuff Head of House, though.”

“Sucks that they loose that match up with the ‘H’s,’” said Draco, tucking his hands in his pockets. “I can’t imagine every being a Head of House. Too much you have to deal with. Helping everyone plan their classes… gross.”

“I think I’d have more patience with that than with actually teaching,” Kit thought aloud. “I mean, first and second year everyone has the same classes, and after third year, you kind of rely on the kids to have their own ideas for what they want to do in terms of electives. Fifth year is complex, I suppose, because you have to prepare everyone for O.W.L.s, but test prep can’t be that bad. Sixth and seventh year career counseling can’t be that hard.”

“I suppose, but all the Heads of House are already Professors. You’d have to teach something.”

“Oh… right,” she sighed. “Well, that was fun to think of while it lasted. Say— what are they doing over there?” 

They had entered the Great Hall amidst other students, but as they stopped at the Slytherin table to grab a couple of rolls, they’d seen that several Gryffindors were still clustered near the doors. 

“Oh, shit,” said Draco, getting a bit tense as he craned his neck up to see what was going on. “Katie Bell is back…”

Looking healthy as ever, Katie Bell was surrounded by her jubilant friends. “I’m really well!” she said happily. “They let me out of St. Mungos on Monday, I had a couple of days at home with Mum and Dad and then came back here this morning. Leanne was just telling me about McLaggen and the last match, Harry...”

Kit glanced to where Harry had approached her. “Yeah,” he told her, “well, now you’re back and Ron’s fit, we’ll have a decent chance of thrashing Ravenclaw, which means we could still be in the running for the Cup.”

“Fuck,” sighed Kit, pulling Draco back out of the Great Hall as soon as they grabbed some food. “That fucking sucks. Katie, Demelza, and Ginny are going to give us a good fight. I was hoping Dean would stay as Chaser. I still think I should leave Su as Seeker, so she has a shot of getting us a lot of points…”

But Draco wasn’t listening at all. He looked very scared. “Kit,” he said lowly as they passed them. “What if she remembers?”

“I don’t think she will be able to,” said Kit, furrowing her brows as he turned the hall toward the second floor girls’ lavatory. “Are— are you worried?”

“Aren’t you?” he asked a bit sharply. “She could point us out?”

“She won’t. Neither of us were at Hogsmeade, and if she managed to see Rosmerta, no one will know it was us!”

“But what if they do?” he hissed as he yanked her into the lavatory, knowing no one went in there. Moaning Myrtle didn’t seem to be around either. “What if they know?”

She put her hands firmly on his shoulders. “Draco, breathe. They don’t know. They won’t find out…”

But he shook his head wildly, looking as though his mind was betraying him. He was getting overwhelmed with guilt and paranoia. He went to the sink, and turned on the water, dipping his hands in and splashing the water over his face. He shuddered and shook his head, clutching either side of the sink, bowing his head, and letting out the softest of whimpers.

Kit came over and rubbed his back. “You needn’t be worried,” she whispered, looking into one of the mirrors and seeing Moaning Myrtle had emerged from one of the cubicles. “Er— hi, Myrtle.”

She floated over, looking worried. Probably because no one came in this bathroom unless they needed a good cry. She drifted beside him. “What’s wrong?” she crooned soothingly. “I can try to help you.”

“No,” said Draco, starting to shake. “No— no one can help me. This— I should never have gotten you involved, Kit.”

“We already established that I got myself involved,” she said, leaning down to look him in the eyes. “It’s going to be fine.”

“It isn’t!” he hissed. “I can’t do it… not anymore… but I have to! If we don’t finish this soon, he’ll kill me, and he’ll kill my mother, and he’ll get your father to k-kill you…”

He let out a sob, tears beginning to flood his blue eyes. “I-I should have done this alone from the start…”

“No one should have to do anything alone,” said Myrtle, who didn’t understand what they were talking about, but could clearly sense that he was struggling to cope with a duty. 

“We discussed this, Draco,” Kit pressed on. “Doing this alone would have destroyed you. I… I don’t regret having helped you. You would be broken dealing with this guilt by yourself. Don’t be worried— we’re going to figure this out….”

He moved his head to glance up at her, but his eyes darted toward the mirror, and his pupils dilated.

Kit had only just registered that someone must be behind them, and by then, Draco had whirled around, wand out, shooting a hex at Harry, who’d been the one spying.

“NO!” screamed Kit, trying to stop him from firing another, though Draco merely shoved her out of the way, since Harry had fired back a spell and nearly hit her. 

“No! No! Stop it!” squealed Moaning Myrtle, her voice echoing loudly around the tiled room. “Stop! STOP!”

Kit raised her own wand, but there was no telling how she could intercept— they were firing at each other so fast that she wasn’t sure how she could safely intervene without one of them getting hurt. “Please!” she cried. “Stop it— both of you— stop!”

Draco had clearly had enough. Face contorted in anger, he jabbed his wand toward Harry. “Cruci—”

Kit had chosen that moment to fire, so that she could disarm him, because there was absolutely no way that she was going to let him use an Unforgivable on Harry. But that left Draco defenseless as Harry, from the floor, bellowed, “SECTUMSEMPRA!”

The spell hit, and blood immediately spurted from Draco’s face and chest, as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword. His eyes widened and he staggered backward, collapsing onto the waterlogged floor with a great splash, letting out a hoarse gasp.

“No,” gasped Harry as Kit screamed, running toward Draco. 

“Hey— hey—” she said, trying to stop him from clawing at his blood-soaked chest. “Stop— let me—” her shaky hands pressed hard over the wounds, though more were appearing in the nearby vicinity as every single second ticked by. He was pale and trembling, his head falling back as he struggled to draw breath.

“Draco— Draco breathe—” said Kit, but her voice didn’t sound normal. She didn’t realize she’d started crying, hands frantically trying to stop the blood flow, though nothing was working. “Oh— oh God no—” she scrambled for her wand as Draco wheezed. Myrtle was screaming something, but Kit couldn’t hear her. 

What to do, what to do? She didn't know the types of spells that could heal this sort of thing. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she kept pressing down on the wounds, watching more spots of blood appearing all over his body, making all the water on the floor become murky crimson. Myrtle was screaming and Harry was muttering incoherently in shock, and Kit couldn't think— she didn't know enough of what she needed to do, and it was terrifying her that she was going to fail at trying to save him, that she would be responsible for his death... 

“ _Episkey_ ,” she said frantically. “ _Consano Medeor_ — _Coalesco Integro_ — oh Merlin— it’s— it’s not working!”

Draco was struggling to breathe, and blood was pooling onto the floor at an alarming rate. Kit’s hands were flying all over, pressing and trying to stop the blood flow, but the spells she was trying weren’t working. 

“I-I don’t— I don’t know enough Healing magic yet!” she said, though she was trying desperately to do something— anything. She started to grow paranoid. Had Draco already lost too much blood? Was he losing oxygen to his brain? Was it affecting his lungs? She was panicking despite her hands subconsciously working to stop the blood. Perhaps, she didn’t have Healing hands after all…

Someone appeared beside her. “Thompson,” came Snape’s voice. “Good— you managed to stop quite a bit of the blood, but I need you to repeat after me.”

Her wand was ready before he’d finished speaking. He started to mutter an incantation that sounded almost like a song, tracing his wand over the deep wounds. She mimicked him, muttering, “ _Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur_ …”

It seemed like this particular spell was exactly what had been necessary to fully stop the bleeding. The spells Kit had tried, combined with her pressing her hands on his abdomen, had eased the flow of blood enough so that Draco wasn’t dead, but hadn’t been sufficient to heal him completely.

“Get him to the Hospital Wing, now,” said Snape sharply as the wounds knitted themselves. 

Kit didn’t hesitate. Mustering all the strength that she could, she pulled Draco up. He was barely conscious enough to move, but she held him against her, dragging him along and relying on his feet to follow hers. She wasn’t anywhere near strong enough to carry him completely, but she was sure as hell not about to give up, even though her body ached trying to support his weight. He was taller and heavier than her, holding more muscle mass than she. She ignored the straining feeling in her arms as she held him upright, not wanting to let him fall. Her legs shook violently, threatening to drop them both to the ground, but somehow she managed, forcing them to carry them back the way they’d come. 

“KIT!” yelled Blaise, who’d just been coming out of the Great Hall. “Holy shit—”

“Blaise,” she gasped, keeping Draco standing as his head lolled to the side— he’d passed out. “Help— help, please—”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He hoisted Draco up by his arms, and Kit took his legs, the two still struggling to carry all the limp weight. It was easier now, but Kit was still shaking. Her face was stained with tears and there was blood all over her robes. Though, that was nothing compared to how drenched Draco’s clothes were— crimson red.

“M-Madam Pomfrey!” Kit cried as she threw open the door. Her voice cracked, and she felt herself starting to cry again. “Madam Pomfrey! Help!”

The matron came running, and pulled them to the nearest table, where she began treating him immediately, shoving some dittany down his throat, and pulling his shirt and pants off to rub a paste over the scars, which were still not receding.

“What the hell happened?” said Blaise quietly as Madam Pomfrey began to wave her wand over Draco’s body.

“Harry,” breathed Kit shakily. “He— he cursed him— he— he overheard us in the bathroom—”

The color drained from Blaise’s face. “He knows?”

“N-No— not— not completely but… b-but his suspicions will d-definitely be confirmed. H-He knows I’m i-involved now…”

It was hours before Draco awoke, and Kit had been crying the entire time. 

This was a different type of devastation. It had pained her greatly seeing Katie and Ron hurt. It had tortured her to watch her mother die.

But this was hitting far closer to home. Knowing she’d been powerless to stop him from being hurt. Knowing she partially caused it, having disarmed him and leaving him defenseless. Blaise had brought Draco’s wand not long ago, and all Kit could do was stare at it. If it hadn’t flown to the side because of her, he would have been able to shield himself, but he might have cast a Cruciatus Curse on Harry, which would have gotten him in trouble…

It was filling her with more paranoia and pain. Her chest felt like it was going to explode from how much that she had cried. Snape said that she’d managed to stop some of the blood flow, but she hadn’t done good enough right away. She had flown into a state of panic and it could have cost Draco his life. Did she have what it took to be a Healer? Now, being the one in the waiting room, she felt powerless and afraid.

He gave a hoarse gasp as he opened his eyes, and she launched herself forward, taking his hand and squeezing it. “Draco!” she choked, her face blotchy and her eyes red. “D-Draco— you’re okay— you’re fine…”

He looked around wildly at first, but then fixated his eyes on hers. “What— what happened? I just— a lot of blood… and pain…”

“H-Harry hexed you,” said Kit shakily. “Some— some curse I’ve never heard of before. You passed out… you lost a lot of blood. But Madam Pomfrey fixed you up completely, even made sure there were no scars…”

She pulled him into a hug, beginning to sob all over again. “I-I’m sorry!” she wailed. “I’m sorry— this is all my fault— I shouldn’t have disarmed me— I couldn’t even do a good enough job of Healing magic— you could have died if Snape hadn’t come— I was useless!”

“You’re not useless, Kit Kat,” said Draco quietly when she pulled away. “You were doing Healing spells on me— you did something. You were trying to save me even though you’ve never been put in that situation before… I should be thanking you.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” she cried, covering her face, ashamed. “I let you get hurt— I was supposed to be helping you, supposed to be keeping you safe, and I almost lost you! I almost fucking lost you!”

“Shh…” he shook his head and pulled her in to kiss her forehead. “You tried to stop me from doing something that would have gotten expelled. I… I’m okay now. I don’t feel hurt. I’m fine, Kit Kat, and that’s thanks to you.”

She sniffled as he raised the blanket to wipe the tears off of her face. “I’m okay, baby,” he whispered very softly. “I’m not leaving you. I’m right here, and I’ll always be here. I’ll always protect you, just like you protected me. I swear it.”

“I love you,” she blurted out.

It felt like the thing she needed to say. She had almost lost him. She had been waiting for hours for him to awake, fearful that he would have some other type of damage, that he wouldn’t want to be with her. In that moment, despite everything they’d already been through, it became chillingly real for Kit that they really were in a great deal of danger. She had watched him face death, and she had barely managed to do enough to save him. She shuddered to think how it might’ve gone if she hadn’t already known those spells, or if Harry had put a bit more power behind the curse, or if Snape had arrived late or if he hadn’t know what to do.

“I never, never want to live without you,” she continued when he didn’t immediately answer. “And I don’t want to go another moment without telling you the truth about what I feel. I love you, Draco Malfoy, and I don’t want to ever lose you.”

He sat up and placed his lips onto hers, wrapping his arms tightly around her and making her whimper from how hard he was kissing her, practically sucking the air out of her lungs. 

“I love you, Kit Thompson,” he breathed back in a brief moment he pulled away. “I love you, and I always have. I don’t want to lose you either.”

Their mouths collided again once he finished speaking.


	80. Chapter 80

**When the visiting hours ended and Madam Pomfrey send Kit back to her Common Room, the Ravenclaw stormed toward Gryffindor Tower.**

She found Harry standing in front of Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, who he evidently had just been informing about what’d happened earlier that day. 

Kit didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. She marched right up to him, her fist balled, and turned him to face her before punching him right in the face.

“KIT!” yelled Ron, running forward and yanking her back.

“Are you happy with yourself?” she spat venomously at Harry, who had a small amount of blood leaking from his nose. “ARE YOU?”

“Kit, calm down!” shrieked Hermione, her eyes wide. “Please— don’t—”

“Don’t what?” she snarled. “Don’t retaliate? YOU COULD HAVE KILLED HIM! YOU ALMOST DID! YOU LET HIM BLEED OUT AND YOU DIDN’T TRY TO HELP!”

“Kit, stop it!” cried Ron, now struggling to hold her back from how fiercely she was trying to get out of his grasp. 

“He was in a pool of his own blood!” she seethed, trying to kick Ron. “A pool of his own blood— and you’re acting all hurt over a punch! Your nose isn’t even broken!”

“Can you quit hounding me?” snapped Harry, wiping his nose. “I already had to endure an angry lecture from McGonagall and Snape’s given me detention every Saturday until the end of term! Are you happy?”

“No, I’m not happy!” Kit snarled. “That bloody book you’ve been using has poisoned your mind— you wouldn’t let Hermione and I see it because you knew we’d never approve of the fucking spells you’re learning from it!”

“She’s not wrong, Harry!” Hermione said timidly. “I told you there was something wrong with that Prince person, and I was right, wasn’t I?”

“No, you weren’t!” Harry said stubbornly. “Quit lecturing me, Hermione!”

“Harry,” said Hermione, trying to keep him and Kit from launching into a fight, “how can you still stick up for that book when that spell—”

“Will you stop harping on about the book!” snapped Harry. “The Prince only copied it out! It’s not like he was advising anyone to use it! For all we know, he was making a note of something that had been used against him!”

“I don’t believe this,” said Hermione. “You’re actually defending—“

“I’m not defending what I did!” yelled Harry, glaring at Kit as though this was directly to her. “I wish I hadn’t done it, and not just because I’ve got about a dozen detentions. You know I wouldn’t’ve used a spell like that, not even on Malfoy, but you can’t blame the Prince, he hadn’t written ‘try this out, it’s really good’— he was just making notes for himself, wasn’t he, not for anyone else...”

“Are you telling me,” said Hermione, “that you’re going to go back—?”

“And get the book? Yeah, I am,” said Harry forcefully. “Listen, without the Prince I’d never have won the Felix Felicis. I’d never have known how to save Ron from poisoning, I’d never have—”

“—got a reputation for Potions brilliance you don’t deserve,” said Hermione nastily.

“Give it a rest, Hermione!” said Ginny. “By the sound of it, Malfoy was trying to use an Unforgivable Curse, you should be glad Harry had something good up his sleeve!”

“Well, of course I’m glad Harry wasn’t cursed!” said Hermione, clearly stung. “But you can’t call that Sectumsempra spell good, Ginny, look where it’s landed him! And I’d have thought, seeing what this has done to your chances in the match—”

“Oh, don’t start acting as though you understand Quidditch,” snapped Ginny, “you’ll only embarrass yourself.”

At this, Kit swiped her leg back and shoved Ron back, making Ginny and Hermione both jump forward to pull her arms away before she could punch Harry again.

“Can you stop?!” hissed Harry, staring at her furiously. “I already said I regret what I did!”

“You used a spell you didn’t know anything about!” she hissed. “You know what I was doing these past hours waiting to see if Draco would be intact when he woke up? I was investigating it. You should have fucking done that before firing at random!”

“He was going to use the bloody Cruciatus Curse on me!” bellowed Harry. “How can you defend him?”

“I’m not defending the fact he did that— I literally disarmed him so that he wouldn’t hit you!”

“Took you long enough to intervene!”

“Not my fault you snuck up to us! What bloody business did you have following us?”

“Don’t you get mad at me for that! You and Malfoy are Death Eaters!”

Ginny, Hermione, and Ron all went silent. “What?” breathed Hermione. “Oh, Harry, you know Kit wouldn’t do that!”

Angrily, Kit yanked up both her sleeves and flashed him both bare forearms. “I haven’t got a bloody Dark Mark!” she hissed. “I’m not a Death Eater! How dare you—”

“You’re helping him regardless if you aren’t one!” spat Harry. “You helped him curse Katie Bell and poison Ron—”

The fact that Kit faltered didn’t help her case. Even Hermione went pale and stepped away. “Is... is that true?”

Kit wanted to say no. But the lies had caught up and she was being outed. “You don’t understand,” she said immediately. “None of you— it’s not— it’s not what you think—”

“It’s not what we think?” fumed Ginny, now looking like she might like to punch Kit. “You’re the reason my brother almost died!”

“No— Ginny— it— it’s not like that—”

“Get the hell out!” she snapped viciously, clearly not in the mood to hear her out. “Get the hell out of here and don’t come back! EVER!”

Kit wasn’t about to move, but Ginny lunged forward and shoved her back. Kit didn’t have the heart to fight back. She felt herself starting to cry again, and let Ginny push her right back out of the portrait hole, slamming the door shut in her face.

She didn’t go to Ravenclaw Tower right away. She couldn’t. Her chest ached and she’d found herself wandering the halls aimlessly, unknowingly making her way to Dumbledore’s office through the Gargoyle Corridor.

“Toffee Eclairs,” she said weakly as she stopped in front of the griffin door. It didn’t budge. “T-Toffee Eclairs! Fuck—” she swallowed back an angry sob. “Cauldron Cakes… Sugar Quills… Jelly Slugs… Pepper Imps… Cockroach Clusters—”

The door opened, and she let out a harsh sigh as she ran in, and found the office empty.

“Seriously?” she hissed. “Seriously? Are— are you fucking kidding me? You’re not here, again? Where— where the fuck do you go?!” She kicked aside one of the chairs, but immediately felt remorse and picked it back up before leaving, and heading down to the dungeons, knowing Snape might be in his office.

She didn’t bother to knock on the door. She threw it open, highly doubting he’d be busy.

He wasn’t. Hunched over a piece of parchment, he seemed to be writing an urgent letter. Maybe to inform Narcissa Malfoy about what had happened.

“Thompson,” said Snape dully as she came in. Wordlessly, she sank into the chair opposite his desk, leaning her head back and trying to force the tears back into her eyes. “Is Mr. Malfoy awake?”

“He’s fine,” she mumbled, her eyes closing. This only resulted in more tears wanting to get out, and she opened her eyes again, trying to dry them out.

“Then why are you in my office?” he drawled.

Her head snapped up to face him. “Oh, I don’t know,” she spat. “You’re the last person I even want to see right now, but you’re the only one who’s here that knows the truth about everything. I didn’t fucking come here for comfort, because we all know damn well that you’re the last Professor who’d provide any sort of warmth or reassuring words after what happened today. No, I’m not here to bother you either, I want to know what the fuck Dumbledore is thinking, letting this sort of thing be carried out.”

Snape glared at her, as if debating reprimanding her for the way she was speaking to him. Instead, he turned around, and she distinctly heard the sound of something being poured. When he turned to face her again, he had a cup of tea in his hands, and he put it in front of her, before looking down at his parchment and beginning to write again. “I do not know what Dumbledore really intends. That is a question only he can answer, and knowing him, he will either answer it in the vaguest terms, or not at all.”

Kit stared at the teacup in front of her. She wasn’t in the mood for tea. She might throw up if she tried to ingest anything. “I hate him. I fucking hate him.”

Snape looked bored. “And so does every Death Eater. You are not special, Thompson.”

“He’s an asshole,” she continued, not caring what Snape thought of her words. “He’s let Harry be emotionally abused by his relatives instead of letting him live with people who actually care about him. He hires Professors without doing thorough background checks, and later people end up dead and hurt. He remains quiet when things need to be said. Instead of sharing his thoughts, he closes up, and it just ruins everything. Now, he’s letting all of this happen and he can’t even be here to deal with the consequences? And I bet he’d let Harry get away with what he did, if he were here. I know damn well that if I’d let Draco cast that Cruciatus Curse, he would be expelled instantly. But no, the fucking Chosen One…”

“Am I to be under the impression that you and Potter are not friends anymore?”

“Doesn’t fucking seem like it. Nor with Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, it seems. Blaise is the only one who knew the truth.” She put her hands on her head. “Su, at least, I can explain things to. She’ll understand.”

Snape looked like he’d very much rather be anywhere else, but felt compelled to stay there on the other side of her. “You are ridiculously like your insufferable sister,” he muttered. “Mouths like sailors without any filter.”

“I come here with my face stained with tears and you give me tea and insult my sister,” said Kit, glaring at him. “Lovely.”

“If you wanted comfort, you could have done much better going to Mr. Zabini. He, after all, is aware of the situation—”

Kit gritted her teeth. “Don’t be stupid, you know that I meant the situation between you and Dumbledore?”

Snape’s eyes darkened. “Watch your tongue, Thompson, otherwise, I will not hesitate to let you join Potter in detention. I will not mind shoving you together so that you may spout hateful words at each other.”

Kit stood up and shoved the tea back at him. “Nevermind. I shouldn’t have come here. You’re of no help at all.”

“You shouldn’t have expected anything more,” he said, taking the tea and sipping it without glancing at her as she walked out the door.

She felt emotionally exhausted as she made her way to Ravenclaw Tower. She needed sleep. She’d cried too much today. She was starving, but still felt sick to her stomach. She’d need to wait until tomorrow for a meal.

She found Su and Mimi in the Common Room. Mimi had her arm around Su, and seemed to be murmuring words of comfort, which struck Kit as strange, considering Su hadn’t spoken to Mimi ever since she’d been ignoring Kit.

Her heart sank when Su glared up hatefully at her. “You and Malfoy cursed Katie Bell and poisoned Ron?” she hissed. “Is that true?”

Kit didn’t know how the hell she was aware of it, but this was not good. If the whole school knew…

She didn’t realize she was just staring at Su until she stood up and slapped her, making Kit’s head swipe to the side, her cheek stinging. It brought back memories of how her mother had slapped her before, and how her father had beaten her— memories of pain she hadn’t felt in awhile.

“You can’t even say anything, can you?” she snapped. “How could you?”

“Su, it’s not like that,” Kit said weakly. She wasn’t in the mood to try and argue. “I can explain— please, let me explain—”

“What is there to explain? That you’re associating with the people who killed my dad? The ones who threaten my mum and make her and my family go into hiding all the time? If there was something to explain, you should have told me sooner— I would have helped you get out of it. Instead, you and Malfoy let two innocent people get hurt doing whatever sick things you do when you disappear. You— you’ve been lying to me for months now. MONTHS!”

Kit flinched when Su yelled. The girl’s face was red, and behind her, Mimi was looking supportive, though not pleased with how things were transpiring. 

“You’re just as sick as your stupid sister,” snapped Su, grabbing one of Kit’s books off the table and shoving it into her chest so hard, that in trying to catch it, Kit lost her balance and fell back. “Just you wait. I’m going to talk to Flitwick in the morning. Cho’s assuming Captaincy, and I’m going back to being a Chaser for the stupid final. This meant a lot to me, Kit, I wanted to play Seeker.”

“That’s not my fault,” Kit said quietly. “I was going to let you…”

“You didn’t fucking think about how your actions would affect other people, did you? You’ve been brainwashed by Malfoy. You’re loyal to him for whatever idiotic reason… but I want no part in it. I-I didn’t pull away earlier, even though I knew that being associated with you would put me in danger. I didn’t want to believe that you were like them. But you are. And I’m not taking that risk anymore. Not when my life, the life of my boyfriend, my friends, his family, and mine are at stake. I don’t want to hear your explanations. I can’t trust you anymore.”

She left without another word, and Mimi followed her.

**_**

Kit resigned as Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain before Su could talk to Flitwick. 

She’d handed in her uniform, and tucked her broom under her bed. She’d handed her prefect badge to Flitwick without explanation, and had gone to the Room of Requirement to cry until lunch, when she no longer could ignore the cries of her starved belly.

She had been mortified to face everyone in the Great Hall. Stares followed, and so did whispers. She didn’t make it to the Ravenclaw Table before she decided to turn around and just go directly to the kitchen instead, where she stuffed her face with pastries to keep herself from crying.

She visited Draco later that day. He’d be released by evening, in time to go to sleep in his own bed.

“So they’re all mad at you,” he said, sounding crestfallen. The last thing he’d wanted was for Kit to lose her friends because of him. “I’m sorry, Kit Kat…”

“It’s not your fault,” she said softly. “It really isn’t. I could explain but it’s just complicated. They don’t get it. They don’t know your mother and they… they never had to spend more than an hour with my father. They don’t know what it’s like to be raised the way we were.”

“Still, it does feel like it’s my fault. If I wasn’t so weak, you wouldn’t have needed to help me.”

“Don’t you dare call yourself weak,” she said sharply. “Don’t you dare. I do not for an instant regret helping you.”

That Saturday, Kit hadn’t even bothered to attend the Quidditch match. From where she and Draco were in the courtyard, they could hear the match faintly, meaning she at least got some sort of commentary, but she wasn’t paying enough attention to really internalize it and try to figure out who was winning. 

She could only imagine how Su, Stephen, and Orla would fare against Dean, Katie, and Demelza. Not well, she imagined, considering how good Demelza was at dodging Bludgers, and how much experience Katie had compared to all of them. Dean was their weak spot, but even he wasn’t that bad. Ginny was playing Seeker, and Cho would likely pose a good challenge, but Ginny could very easily get lucky and catch the Snitch from under her nose like she did the year before, when Michael Corner ended up going to comfort Cho after the match.

In the end, it became apparent that Gryffindor had won. Kit could hear the afterparty in Gryffindor Tower, and didn’t dare step into the Ravenclaw Common Room to peer into the gloomy environment she was sure to find. They’d blame it on her, likely, because she was the most obvious choice for a scapegoat.

The following day, she felt isolated. She had heard the news that Harry and Ginny were now apparently going out, but she was excluded when it came to learning the details. They looked happy together, but she didn’t get to take part in it. She could only watch as Su nudged Ron playfully, maybe chiding him for something he said to Ginny, who was patting Harry’s chest while Hermione looked on.

The only ones speaking to Kit actively were Blaise and Draco. She had never needed anyone else but Blaise— in her early years at Hogwarts when Draco hadn’t been speaking to her, she wasn’t friends with the Gryffinors, and she and Su were not yet close, he’d been the only one she needed to talk to, ever. Everything had been fine, just the two of them.

But now she felt empty. She had had such a large, vibrant friend group, and now, there was nothing. Terry and Anthony were speaking to her, but Kit suspected they were a bit scared to do so, and must have only kept talking to her so that she wouldn’t get mad and out them. She felt guilty, knowing that that was they must be thinking, since she could be unpredictable and impulsive when she was hurt. She would never dare do that to them.

The month of May died out and they went into June, and Kit watched as most of the fifth year Ravenclaws asked Su, Mimi, Lisa, Mandy for help them study for their O.W.L.s. She watched Ginny ask Hermione for advice. Even though she had never been patient enough to tutor anyone, she felt excluded and hurt.

That was until Luna Lovegood came to find her in the library.

Her silvery protuberant eyes were shining with excitement as she came to sit beside Kit, her hair in a messy bun and Dirigible plum earrings swinging below her earlobes. “Hello, Kit,” she said vaguely as she brought out her Transfiguration textbook. “You scored an Outstanding in Transfiguration.”

Kit was shocked that she was speaking to her, therefore, she didn’t immediately answer. “Oh. Um… yeah, I did.”

Luna cast her a smile. “Nice! Would you mind helping me study? I’ve got down most other subjects. Transfiguration is still not my strong suit.”

And so, Kit helped her study. They were huddled together for hours, just going over material. Kit felt herself wanting to cry from how kind Luna was being, but she forced down her sobs and kept her voice level. She knew for a fact that Luna’s weak spot was definitely not Transfiguration— she’d likely done it out of the goodness of her heart because she’d seen Kit looking so alone lately, since no one wanted to associate with her anymore.

“It was the sweetest thing ever,” Kit cried, wiping her tears with her sleeve as she told Draco what’d happened. She was on his bed, in her pajamas. Crabbe and Goyle were out in the Common Room playing Exploding Snap with Urquhart, Vaisley, and Warrington. Blaise was out doing rounds alongside Hermione, even though he wasn’t a prefect. Only Theo was inside, but Kit didn’t care if he heard. 

“I’m sorry that everyone else is being such a prat,” Draco mumbled. “Did you end up going to Cho Chang’s party for finishing her six years of Quidditch?”

“No,” said Kit miserably, sniffling as he passed her a tissue. “I didn’t think I’d be welcome. Cho’s never talked to me that much, but I didn’t want to test it and see if she would ignore me now. Hermione’s tried to be subtly nice but she won’t say anything aloud to me. I think she’s worried about Ron and Harry snapping at her for it. I just… I don’t know. I feel out of place here.”

“You shouldn’t feel out of place, Thompson,” came Theo’s voice from his bed. She looked back at him. He’d sat up, apparently having just finished writing an essay. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Neither of you did. You’re protecting your family. Sure, two people got hurt along the way but they didn’t die. If they want to be stupid and cut you off instead of trying to understand, it’s their loss. I always thought you fit better as a Slytherin, Kit. We’d have all been good friends ages ago.”

She half-smiled over at him. “Thanks, Theo,” she said quietly. “I really do wish we could have all actually been friends, had things been different…”

And she meant it. But she hadn't wanted to lose the friends she had already— not like this.


	81. Chapter 81

**It was the end of June when Draco came running toward Kit.**

The end of the term had arrived at last and all Kit wanted was to go home.

So far, aside from Blaise, Draco, and several Slytherins who felt bad for Kit, the only ones who’d spoken to her more consistently were Hermione and Luna. Ron occasionally acknowledged her presence, but since Su and Harry were so insistent on not speaking to her, he remained quiet. Ginny seemed to want to at least hear her out, but she seemed afraid to, like she was constantly forcing herself to remember that she had to think about protecting her family, and that associating with Kit would only put them in more danger.

Kit wanted to be mad at them. She wanted to hate them for abandoning her.

But could she really blame them?

Draco had never fully redeemed himself, and they still remembered how he’d used slurs on them and fat-shamed their mother. Though he was better, they were constantly reminded of him because Kit was with him, and despite having been accepting of their relationship, there had always been that nagging sensation that Kit was pitying someone who did not deserve any redemption. 

Kit knew she’d always been the volatile one. The one who got mad for no reason and snapped at them. Even though she hadn’t done that in awhile, she was always the ‘subject to change’ one. The one that everyone could easily drop and not miss, because regardless of how good of a friend she could be, the negative aspects had always outweighed her, and at the end of the day, they always fixated on her bad temper and attitude, her family, and the fact that she could not, for the love of Merlin, control her tongue or her impulses.

Kit felt like sinking into a pit and never reappearing. She couldn’t imagine what Sirius, Remus, and Alastor must have already heard. They’d be ashamed of her, and especially cross for having kept such a dangerous secret. Her mind drifted to situations she created herself, out of paranoia— Sirius would kick her out of Grimmauld Place, Alastor would shun her and make sure she never had a place in the Order, Remus would turn a blind eye and cease protecting her.

Draco could tell that she was getting into a depressive state. He and Blaise were doing everything to keep her from being devoured by it, but nothing helped. She was distracted whenever she wasn’t actually forcing herself to study for exams. When those were over, she started forgetting her routine, and would neglect meals. She showered for far too long, just crying and letting her tears roll down and disappear down the drain, which was making her skin dry, and led her to keep feeling sick all the time.

He’d kept her out of the final proceedings of his task for as long as he could, to not worry her, but this time, he could no longer keep her in the dark. Just the other day, he’d asked her for help for the first time since April, and the two had snuck off to Hogsmeade to freshen the Imperius curse on Madam Rosmerta one last time, instructing her to use one of the DA Galleons (donated by Kit and Blaise) to alert Draco whenever Dumbledore left. 

“The Vanishing Cabinet,” he panted on the last day of the month. “We got a note. The plan— it’s in motion.”

“Right now?” she asked. He didn’t answer, dragging her off to the Slytherin Common Room. He’d sat her down and finally told her the truth: Death Eaters were meant to enter Hogwarts.

She had been too numb to object. But now, it was becoming very much real. The problem was that she lacked the focus to cope with the situation, given her current state.

“They’re coming in fifteen minutes,” said Draco. “Borgin sent the note. I want you to stay here and don’t leave until I come and get you, alright? If everything goes well, I will come. If it doesn’t, then you will hide. Do you understand me?”

He should have known she’d never listen to that. He should have assumed that she wouldn’t sit still after being told such a thing. She’d left right after he did, sneaking toward the Astronomy Tower to lay in wait, since she knew that he would be there not long after. Spell after spell she cast to conceal herself, hiding behind anything she could find, remaining very still, her heart racing. It was already nighttime, and the starry sky could be seen.

She didn’t know what she’d been thinking, coming up here, but it felt like the right thing to do. It made sense, to want to be there to witness Draco completing the task, to protect him if something went wrong. It was foolish, but she didn’t want to dare be anywhere else. This was the first time in awhile that she was feeling any motivation to do something, and at the moment, it felt like the right thing to do to be there as backup, even though she was too emotionally exhausted to be of much help.

Her impulses would be her downfall, one day.

Within twenty minutes, footsteps could be heard making their way to the tower, and it was too late for Kit to change her mind about what she was doing, and where she was. 

“Blasted tower,” hissed the familiar and chilling voice of Kenneth Thompson. “I hated this place when I came here.”

“Why, they didn’t let you throw anyone off the side of the balcony, Thompson?” huffed the familiar voice of Travers.

“Oh, very funny,” came Alana’s voice. “Hurry up, Father, cast the mark and we can go. I’m in the mood to kill. We can go find Kitty and grab her.”

“Patience, Alana,” said Kenneth sternly as he neared the balcony and shot his wand up in the air. “ _Mosmordre_!” 

Kit watched as a green light shot out, likely bringing the Dark Mark to reside over Hogwarts castle. Her heart thumped hard. They were only there to kill Dumbledore. They’d leave soon. Draco would complete the task, Kit would be there for backup…

“It’s done,” said Kenneth. “Alana, go find your sister. Remember— do not harm her. The Dark Lord wishes to do any torture on his own, if she refuses to be branded.”

_Branded?_

“Idiot girl,” hissed Alana. “If we’d known earlier that she would be so hopelessly devoted to that Malfoy boy, we’d have snatched her up at the Ministry. We could have easily kidnapped her there, Father.”

“How was I to know that she would willingly help him with murder? We underestimated your sister’s feelings for the boy.”

“Maybe if you’d been more alert, like I was, Father. I correctly deduced her friend dynamics within seconds at the Ministry. Had you told me more information, she’d be part of our ranks already. If you hadn’t been so intent on abusing her, you might have learned something about her.”

“Alana, do not chastise me. Let’s go.”

They left, and Kit’s heart was left nearly leaping out of her chest. They knew. They fucking knew, and being here was a mistake. But if she moved, her spells would be disrupted, and if for some reason, someone that she couldn’t see was lingering behind, she would be caught.

Fuck. This was bad.

But things were underway and there was no stopping them. Her heart was ready to explode the entire time she crouched in the darkness, listening to her blood flowing through her body, feeling herself losing her grip on her reality and her emotions from how much panic was flooding into her veins. If only she’d put more thought into this, if only she hadn’t acted so rashly…

Dumbledore had returned from wherever he’d gone, Harry in tow, and Kit had watched them arrive, dismounting from brooms after crossing the crenellated ramparts. She should have asked more about the situation before shoving herself in the middle of it… 

“What does it mean?” she heard Harry ask Dumbledore. “Is it the real Mark? Has someone definitely been— Professor?”

“Go and wake Severus,” said Dumbledore faintly but clearly. “Tell him what has happened and bring him to me. Do nothing else, speak to nobody else and do not remove your Cloak. I shall wait here.”

“But—”

“You swore to obey me, Harry— go!”

But Harry didn’t make it. Draco had already arrived. “ _Expelliarmus_!” he cried, Dumbledore’s wand soaring in an arc over the edge of the ramparts. 

“Good evening, Draco,” said Dumbledore calmly. 

“Who else is here?” Kit heard Draco ask. 

“A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?”

“No. I’ve got back-up. There are Death Eaters here in your school tonight.”

“Well, well,” said Dumbledore. “Very good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did you?”

“Yeah,” Draco was panting. “Right under your nose and you never realized!” 

“Ingenious,” said Dumbledore. “Yet… forgive me… where are they now? You seem unsupported.”

“They met some of your guard. They’re having a fight down below. They won’t be long… I came on ahead. I-I’ve got a job to do.”

“Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy,” said Dumbledore softly. “Draco, Draco, you are not a killer.”

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” said Draco more forcefully, “you don’t know what I’ve done!”

“Oh, yes, I do,” said Dumbledore mildly. “You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. You have been trying, with increasing desperation, to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco, but they have been feeble attempts… so feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your heart has been really in it… and then, I knew… you had Miss Thompson helping you. Neither of you would have ever really wanted to hurt anyone. You only did it to protect each other.”

Draco did not answer. Kit could barely see him. Red-faced— perhaps he’d argued with one of the Death Eaters. 

“Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone,” suggested Dumbledore. “What if your backup has been thwarted by my guard? As you have perhaps realized, there are members of the Order of the Phoenix here tonight, too. And after all, you don’t really need help… I have no wand at the moment… I cannot defend myself.” He then looked over kindly at Draco when he didn’t move. “I see. You are afraid to act until they join you.”

“I’m not afraid!” snarled Draco, though he still made no move to hurt Dumbledore. “It’s you who should be scared!”

“But why? I don’t think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe… so tell me, while we wait for your friends… how did you smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it. What did you and Miss Thompson do?”

Draco looked as though he was fighting down the urge to shout, or to vomit. He gulped and took several deep breaths, glaring at Dumbledore, his wand pointing directly at the latter’s heart. Then, as though he could not help himself, he said, “We had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one’s used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year.”

“Aaaah.” Dumbledore’s sigh was half a groan. He closed his eyes for a moment. “That was clever… there is a pair, I take it?”

Kit could tell that Draco was only buying time as he began to explain what they’d done. He was most definitely hesitating. She couldn’t blame him. She felt guilt— he must think she was safe down in the dungeons, and really, she was watching him. He didn’t want to go through with the murder because he was scared of what she would think of him— of how a confession like that would take a toll on her mental health and their relationship. Kit hated being the fragile one. She hated being alone, not being able to help Draco enough. She felt useless, having grown more and more self-conscious with every passing day that she watched her friends ignoring her… 

“Of course,” said Dumbledore after awhile of listening. “Rosmerta. How long has she been under the Imperius Curse? And, I expect, that Miss Thompson was the one who took care of that.”

“Got there at last, have you?” Draco taunted.

There was another yell from below, rather louder than the last few that Kit had heard while Draco had been explaining— sounds she’d tried to tune out. She didn’t want to think about who from the Order was here, getting hurt…

Dumbledore went on, “So poor Rosmerta was forced to lurk in her own bathroom and pass that necklace to any Hogwarts student who entered the room unaccompanied? And the poisoned mead…” 

Kit felt sick to her stomach. How had they ended up here? How had it come to this? Her mind was lost and she couldn’t find it, she was in this position because she couldn’t focus long enough to think rationally...

“There is little time, one way or another,” said Dumbledore. “So let us discuss your options, Draco.”

“My options!” said Draco loudly. “I’m standing here with a wand— I’m about to kill you—”

“My dear boy, let us have no more pretence about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means. You do not wish to harm me, not when you are so worried about Miss Thompson’s opinions and safety.”

“I haven’t got any options!” snapped Draco. “I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill my whole family! He’ll kill Kit, and I won’t dare let that happen!”

“I appreciate the difficulty of your position,” said Dumbledore. “Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realized that I suspected you. I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you had been entrusted, in case he used Legilimency against you. But now at last we can speak plainly to each other… no harm has been done, you have hurt nobody, though you are very lucky that your unintentional victims survived… I can help you, Draco. I can help you and Miss Thompson to be safe.”

“No, you can’t,” said Draco, his wand hand shaking wildly. “Nobody can. He told me to do it or he’ll kill me. I’ve got no choice. I’m in enough trouble as it is, with Kit being involved. I’ve put her in danger. Her father knows!”

“Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you both more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban… when the time comes we can protect him too… come over to the right side, Draco… you are not a killer...”

“But I got this far, didn’t I?” Draco said slowly. “They thought I’d die in the attempt, but I’m here… and you’re in my power… I’m the one with the wand… you’re at my mercy...”

“No, Draco,” said Dumbledore quietly. “It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now.”

Suddenly footsteps were thundering up the stairs and a second later Draco was buffeted out of the way as four people in black robes burst through the door on to the ramparts. Kit didn’t see her father, Alana, or Travers.

A lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer gave a wheezy giggle. “Dumbledore cornered!” he said, and he turned to a stocky little woman who looked as though she could be his sister. “Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!”

“Good evening, Amycus,” said Dumbledore calmly, as though welcoming the man to a tea party. “And you’ve brought Alecto too… charming...”

The woman gave an angry little titter. “Think your little jokes’ll help you on your deathbed, then?” she jeered.

“Jokes? No, no, these are manners,” replied Dumbledore.

“Do it,” said a big, rangy man with matted grey hair and whiskers, whose black Death Eater’s robes looked uncomfortably tight. He had a rasping bark of a voice, and even from where Kit was hiding, she could smell dirt, sweat, and blood on him.

“Is that you, Fenrir?” asked Dumbledore.

“That’s right,” rasped the other. “Pleased to see me, Dumbledore?”

“No, I cannot say that I am...”

Fenrir Greyback grinned, showing pointed teeth. Blood trickled down his chin and he licked his lips slowly, obscenely. “But you know how much I like kids, Dumbledore.”

“Am I to take it that you are attacking even without the full moon now? This is most unusual...you have developed a taste for human flesh that cannot be satisfied once a month?” 

“That’s right,” said Greyback. “Shocks you, that, does it, Dumbledore? Frightens you?”

“Well, I cannot pretend it does not disgust me a little,” said Dumbledore. “And, yes, I am a little shocked that Draco here invited you, of all people, into the school where his friends live...”

“I didn’t,” breathed Draco, looking nervous. “I didn’t know he was going to come —”

“I wouldn’t want to miss a trip to Hogwarts, Dumbledore,” rasped Greyback. “Not when there are throats to be ripped out… delicious, delicious… I came looking for one in particular, but her father says she’s not to be touched… not little Katherine Thompson… so instead, I could do you for afters, Dumbledore.”

“No,” said the fourth Death Eater sharply— Rabastan Lestrange, no doubt. “We’ve got orders. Draco’s got to do it. Now, Draco, and quickly.”

“He’s not long for this world anyway, if you ask me!” said Amycus to the accompaniment of his sister’s wheezing giggles. “Look at him— what’s happened to you, then, Dumby?”

“Oh, weaker resistance, slower reflexes, Amycus,” said Dumbledore. “Old age, in short… one day, perhaps, it will happen to you… if you are lucky...”

“What’s that mean, then, what’s that mean?” yelled the Death Eater, suddenly violent. “Always the same, weren’t yeh, Dumby, talking and doing nothing, nothing, I don’t even know why the Dark Lord’s bothering to kill yeh! Come on, Draco, do it!”

But at that moment, there were renewed sounds of scuffling from below and a voice shouted, “They’ve blocked the stairs— Reducto! REDUCTO!”

“Now, Draco, quickly!” snarled Rabastan. 

But Draco’s hand was shaking so badly that he could barely aim.

“I’ll do it,” snarled Greyback, moving towards Dumbledore with his hands outstretched, his teeth bared.

“I said no!” shouted Rabastan, blasting Fenrir back

“Draco, do it, or stand aside so one of us—” started Alecto.

But at that precise moment the door to the ramparts burst open once more and there stood Snape, his wand clutched in his hand as his black eyes swept the scene, from Dumbledore slumped against the wall, to the four Death Eaters, including the enraged werewolf, and Malfoy.

“We’ve got a problem, Snape,” said Amycus, whose eyes and wand were fixed alike upon Dumbledore, “the boy doesn’t seem able—”

But somebody else had spoken Snape’s name, quite softly.

“Severus...” Dumbledore’s voice sounded pleading, and Kit felt her chest tighten. He knew it was his time to die, even though it was all planned...

Snape said nothing, but walked forwards and pushed Draco roughly out of the way. The three Death Eaters fell back without a word. Even the werewolf seemed cowed. Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.

“Severus...please...”

Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore. “ _Avada Kedavra_!”

A jet of green light shot from the end of Snape’s wand and hit Dumbledore squarely in the chest.

Kit had to force her hand very tightly over her mouth to not scream as Dumbledore was blasted into the air: for a split second he seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining skull, and then he fell slowly backwards, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight.

From there, everything fell apart. 

There was a rush of movement and people were running— she knew Draco must have wanted to head to the Slytherin Common Room, but Rabastan grabbed him. “Don’t be stupid, boy— Alana and Kenneth will find her, run!”

“But—” Rabastan smacked him across the face. “I already told you she’ll be unharmed— RUN!”

Draco had been forced to follow behind Amycus and Alecto.

Somehow, Kit had moved. She didn’t realize she was doing it, but her protection spell had come off. She could see them running out— Harry was running, he was following Snape— but she couldn’t register it. She was raising her wand without thinking, not understanding what she should do—

Someone grabbed her roughly and turned her around. The sickening smile of Alana bore down into her. “Well, well, Kitty,” she cooed. “You were in here the entire time.”

Kit didn’t realize that they were outside of the Astronomy Tower. Her mind was all over the place, and somehow, her feet had carried her out into the hallway, uncloaked and at the mercy of anyone who found her.

“What— what are you doing?” said Kit in confusion.

“She’s disoriented, Father,” called Alana to someone behind Kit. “Lost her bloody mind, it seems.”

“Our sources were not wrong, then. That’s what you get for befriending Mudbloods, Katherine. Come here.”

Alana shoved Kit toward her father, who pressed his wand to her forehead, her dazed eyes barely registering the fact that he was bleeding, and had a nasty cut on his cheek. He glared down at his daughter. “ _Somnus Nox_.”

She crumpled into his arms immediately after.


	82. Chapter 82

**When Kit awoke, she was in her room at Thompson Manor.**

It was exactly how she remembered it, except, seated in a rocking chair at the foot of her bed was Alana, apparently knitting.

“Finally, you’re awake,” huffed Alana impatiently. “You sleep far too much, little sister, but I suppose that a Mudblood lover like you needed rest after all that betrayal. You’ve been out for a day. Missed the celebration of Dumbledore’s death.”

Kit sat up, and shifted back against the headboard. “What are you doing in here?”

“Come now, Kitty, didn’t Mother and Father ever tell you that this used to be my room before I married? I loved the view. In fact, I was the one who told them to let you have this room when you were born. There were many other rooms to choose from, of course, but we never used those before. Only now, that Death Eaters are getting comfortable here. Rabastan and I are in the next room.”

“Why aren’t you at Lestrange Manor?” muttered Kit, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. 

“Silly, don’t you know that Rabastan and I don’t own that? That house belongs to Bellatrix and Rodolphus. We were living in that room when you were a baby while we got everything settled to get a place of our own. I don’t actually like large Manors. Either way, Lestrange and Malfoy Manor have been seized by the Ministry. Pity, really… with Lucius in Azkaban and with Bellatrix and Rodolphus having been staying here with us, they were left unprotected. No matter. Thompson Manor is bigger and more adept to drink in curses. Father’s refreshed them every morning. The Ministry hasn’t been able to get in.”

Kit shifted uncomfortably. “You mean… you’ve been here this whole time?”

“Since the Ministry, you mean? Yes. If we’d had it my way, you’d have been here with us to help me gather baby clothes.”

Kit grimaced. “Ugh. That’s disgusting.”

“Oh don’t be so rude. If it were different, you’d have been overjoyed to help me become a mother.”

“If it were different, Alana, we wouldn’t be here at all, and your kid would have been my age.”

Alana cast her a creepy grin. “You’re the spitting image of Father and you have no idea, do you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re just like him,” she crooned, coming over to sit on the bed. “The same temper and attitude… the pessimism… I was always more like Mother. A troublemaker, nevertheless, but much more patient. I was vulgar-tongued but never so snappy like you.”

“Or maybe you just don’t remember what you were like, seeing as you’ve been fucking ruined,” snarled Kit, moving away from her.

Alana’s eyes darkened. “My, my, the first full conversation you have with your big sister and you’re being a little brat.”

Kit scoffed. “What, am I supposed to curtsy and kiss your feet, you fucking animal? You speak of our mother as if you didn’t aid our stupid fucktard of a father in killing her! You let her be murdered!”

“She was a useless dimwit, our mother,” Alana sneered. “You think you were the only one who got beat, sister? Perhaps father liked me more than you, and maybe even mother revered me, but she was a beast. If she’d just conformed, she needn’t have been under a curse. It wouldn’t have made her so brutish.”

“Are you condoning what our father did to her?” Kit snapped, standing up. “You— you sicken me. Get the hell out of my room.”

“Gladly,” said Alana coldly as she stood, her ball of yarn falling to the floor. “Make yourself a noose with that, Kitty. You’re as disposable as Alison was, and don’t think for a second we’ll hesitate to end you. Have fun being stuck in here.”

She stormed out and slammed the door behind her. Kit went to follow her, and found that the door would not open for her. Great, that meant she was spelled into the room. 

“Fucking perfect,” she hissed, kicking the frame and going to her bathroom. 

She’d been asleep for a day. One day. One day since Snape killed Dumbledore. One day since she was brought here.

By the time she had bathed, there was a knock on her door. 

“Can’t open it,” she said nastily as she massaged her face in front of the window. “Get in yourself.”

The door opened to reveal her father. “Katherine,” he said, the gash on his face having scarred over. “Alana told me you were being bratty again. You simply never learn, do you?”

“What are you going to do, punish me?” she snapped as she turned to face him. “Go for it! It’s been a year since you tortured me— do it properly! Lessen the pain I feel! It’s only been a fucking year since you killed my mother!”

His lips curled into a sadistic smirk. “Silly girl, pitying your mother as if she ever did anything good for you. Alas…. I cannot harm you. The Dark Lord does not wish me to damage your brain. He requires information from you.”

“Then, he’ll have to torture it out of me,” said Kit venomously. “I’m not betraying anyone.”

Kenneth chuckled and came closer, wand drawn menacingly. “Even though those brats shunned you, you would defend them?”

“That’s what a good person would do,” she growled. “Besides, I don’t know anything substantial enough to be of any benefit. It’s not like anyone told me their plans.”

“Yes, of course not. A child like you… with the parentage you received… no, they would never trust you. I hear they do not even trust Harry Potter.”

“It’s almost like we’re all minors and they don’t want to give us information because they know how rashly we act!” she snapped. “And because they know that it’ll make us want to join a fight we’re not equipped for.”

“Come now, Katherine, don’t talk down on yourself. We watched you at the Ministry. You put up a very good fight— you and all of your little friends. The Dark Lord acknowledges that. He values it.”

Kit snorted. “As if I’d ever side with him so he can reap the benefits.”

“Stupid girl, we do not wish you to fight at our side so blatantly,” Kenneth said lowly. “Your task is merely to watch over your sister. Our sources tell us that you’ve been studying all sorts of things related to that.”

“Who the fuck is your source, hmm?” snapped Kit. “Who told you I was involved with Draco? Who told you that my friends turned their backs on me? Who’s been telling you what I’ve been researching?”

Kenneth continued to smirk, very amused at her reaction. “Stupid, foolish girl. You should know better than to trust anyone. Especially not Severus Snape.”

“I didn’t trust him,” she said. “He spied on me. I hardly interact with him. I’ve never liked him. You should know that. You punished me several times for mouthing him off in class.”

“Well, Katherine, simply because you don’t trust him doesn’t mean you shouldn’t respect him. I admire Severus greatly. He is an intelligent man. Second in skill only to me, but I am second to him when it comes to having the Dark Lord’s trust. I do not mind this. He knows I am his elder and superior, and as long as our cause is strong, there need not be any animosity, don’t you agree?”

“What are you really here for?” she said coldly. “This is the longest you’ve ever spoken to me without hurting me. What are they promising you so that you leave me unharmed?”

“There are no promises in this for me, Katherine. I have everything I could ever want. Servitude to the Dark Lord is its own reward. I am merely trying to convey to you that the Dark Lord sees potential in you, and as such, you ought to get used to seeing us all about.”

“Oh, lovely,” she said sarcastically. “Am I to assume that we’re to have dinner and tea parties like old pals? Will I be expected to become acquainted with men and women far older than me and act friendly? We’re to play dress up and Quidditch and—”

She stopped when Kenneth began to laugh. Perhaps, of all things that she had ever seen and heard him do, this unnerved her the most. It was a full laugh, not an evil one, and it sent a chill down her spine. He found this funny, and he was acting far too civil for comfort. 

“My, my, Katherine, I forget that sometimes, you little bastards can be quite amusing,” he sighed after a dreadful minute of him laughing. “No, you will not play dress up. But you will join our ranks.”

“Too fucking late for that. I would have done it last summer out of an idiotic impulse but I will not do it now.”

“Katherine, Katherine,” Kenneth chided. “Do you know why you are named Katherine?”

Kit knew. Katherine, for Katherine Smith, Alison’s mother.

“You are named Katherine because your mother insisted it would be fitting to make you her mother’s namesake. Katherine means pure. For some odd reason, this seems to have defined your life— you never conformed to our ideals. However, I believe that now, you have no choice. Draco is here. And he’s… not in the Dark Lord’s good graces. He did not complete his task. And from what our source tells us, the majority of its near success was due to you. You, who performed an Imperius Curse far better than I ever could at your age. You, who were devoted to keeping him sane so that he would not muck it up more than he did. You, who apparently, saved his life when the Potter boy used one of Severus’s spells against him.”

He strode closer, examining her face for any reaction. “You know things. Things that will benefit us. Things that… if said, will save Draco from a terrible fate. Lucius has been broken out of Azkaban, and perhaps he and Narcissa will be spared for now, but your little boyfriend doesn’t have a reputation preceding him that might grant him some sympathy. The Dark Lord is not always merciful.”

“So that’s it, then?” she said quietly. “I’m to stab my friends in the back or he’ll kill Draco?”

“Exactly. A simple choice, really. Give us information against those who hurt you instead of trying to understand you, or watch Draco be killed.”

“Can’t you bloody do anything?” she demanded. “Father, you can’t seriously be willing to turn your back on him just like that— he’s your godson! Vouch for him! I will not step away from being branded, if it will save his life, but I highly doubt that any information I know will be useful. Everything I know is already in play, meaning that nothing I say will be useful.”

Kenneth observed her. “Perhaps, your sister and I will be inclined to vouch for him if you were to take the mark tonight. The Dark Lord will be here in the evening for a meeting to discuss our progress, and divide any tasks that must be completed soon. The hex on your room will be lifted right as darkness comes outside. Come down in dark clothes, without sleeves. If you receive the mark without a fight, Alana and I will bring to the table that we do not believe Draco should be punished.”

Kit swallowed hard and nodded. “Fine. Fine— I’ll do it. Just… go away.”

He dared to pat her shoulder. “Things will be easier if you don’t argue. I needn’t hurt you if you cooperate.”

She shrugged his hand off. “Don’t pretend you care about me. If you did, we wouldn’t be here.”

“I do not use such idiotic words such as ‘care,’” said Kenneth coldly, stepping away from her. “The value you hold is because, whether you like it or not, you are my daughter. That will not change.”

It wasn’t until late afternoon when Kit was able to get a meal. 

A servant had come up and left a tray on her table before leaving without saying anything. She saw that it was Shepherd’s pie and water, with a small piece of parchment that was stuck underneath the plate.

She unrolled this first, and recognized her godmother Narcissa’s handwriting. 

“ _Kit,_

_Draco has not been allowed to see you until tonight, but he is well, and he hopes that you are too. I wish that it had not come to this, but the situation cannot be changed. I plead to you, my goddaughter, do not resist them. They will not dare hurt you otherwise. The Dark Lord has been unable to sway any Healers from coming to aide us, and from what Severus has told us, you know such things best. It is no secret that your sister will soon be carrying the Dark Lord’s child, meaning you will need to help her. I promise you (and ask you burn this letter after reading it) that I will help you in any way I can. All I ask is that you do not act rashly. Do not give them reason to harm you._

_Your godmother,_

_Narcissa_.”

As instructed, Kit ignited the letter. Draco was alright, and for now, that was all that mattered. If she had to take the mark, she could cope with that. In terms of information… she didn’t really know much of use.

The most important thing was Dumbledore and Snape having planned the former’s death. But she likely wouldn’t be able to speak of it, after the spell Dumbledore had done. Either way— she didn’t want Snape to be discovered yet. She wanted to learn first what the hell he was up to. She hated that Dumbledore had never cared to explain anything. He let others suffer for him without any explanation.

When the sun had set and darkness fell, Kit heard the distinct click on her door, letting her know the spell was up. Tucking her wand in her loose dark robes, she went down as instructed, finding the Death Eaters congregated in the drawing room. 

A long, ornate table had been set up in the center. All the furniture that previously occupied the room was gone. It seemed all the Death Eaters of the inner circle were gathered, all in their black robes and with deadpan expressions. At the head of the table was none other than Lord Voldemort, seated directly in front of the fireplace. His face shone through, hairless and snake-like, with slits for nostrils and gleaming red eyes whose pupils were vertical. He was so pale that he seemed to emit a pearly glow. The room was dark, eerie, and cold, and Kit shivered as she neared them. 

“Katherine Thompson,” said Voldemort, gazing toward her. “Your seat, beside Draco.”

He beckoned her nearer the center of the table, where an empty chair awaited her. At Voldemort’s immediate right was Snape, and on his left, Kenneth. On Kenneth’s other side was Alana, followed by Rabastan, and on Snape’s other side were Bellatrix, then Rodolphus. After Rabastan came the empty chair for her, followed by Draco, Lucius, and Narcissa. The other Death Eaters were scattered about. 

She came to sit beside Draco, who didn’t meet her gaze, as if afraid that he’d elicit a comment from Voldemort and put them both in danger. But when she folded her hands on her lap, his hand came to meet hers, his arm twisted at a painful angle so that from where Voldemort was sitting, it would not appear he was touching her. He squeezed her hand reassuringly, sending a silent message that he was there, and would protect her.

“How perfect,” mused Voldemort, leaning back as a gigantic snake slithered up onto the chair and wrapped around his shoulder. “All of my faithful followers, gathered, after we have celebrated the long-awaited death of Albus Dumbledore. For that, we have Severus to thank.”

He held up a long, slender white hand and beckoned toward Snape, who remained unmoving. “Though, of course, we cannot go without acknowledging those who initially meant to carry out the task. Draco, and to my surprise… Katherine.”

He fixated his red eyes on her. “Tell me, what made you help him?”

She glared up at him, daring to look him in the eyes, no matter how scared he felt and no matter how cold she was. She hated him, and would like nothing more than to gouge his eyes out with her wand. “He is my best friend,” she stated. “That sort of loyalty does not disappear even when one is tasked with murder.”

Voldemort’s lips curled upward. “Well spoken. You have, at least, inherited your father’s elegance and intelligence. You were willing to betray your Mudblood and blood-traitor friends for the sake of one boy?”

This caused a ripple of jeering laughter to pass through the table. Across from her, Kit could see Bellatrix baring her yellow teeth, clearly amused. “She loooves him,” she cooed malevolently. “Itty bitty baby Kitty…”

“Do you, Katherine?” inquired Voldemort. “Is Bellatrix correct in her assumptions?”

“She is,” said Kit, not daring to look away from him. She refrained from moving even when Nagini began to slither toward her. “I do not see anything wrong with it.” 

She remained absolutely still as the gigantic snake, thicker than a man’s thigh, coiled itself around her shoulders. The scales grazed the back of her neck and sent several shivers down her spine, but not once did she falter.

“You are still of the mentality that Dumbledore flaunted about,” noted Voldemort. “But no matter. We shall note, rather, that you exhibit undying loyalty for the boy who was meant to be your husband.” He turned to Draco. “Do you still wish to be her husband, Draco?”

Kit could hear him swallowing a lump in his own throat. She remained still as the snake turned its head to Draco, tongue flicking out as if imagining biting into his throat. “I-If it pleases my Lord,” he said simply, giving her hand an extra squeeze. “I don’t wish harm to come to her for my failure.”

Voldemort seemed to like this. “You are a man now, Draco,” he noted. “Seventeen already, though Katherine is still not of age. The Dark Lord is merciful, therefore, I will grant you this. My pardon, and a wife.”

Kit felt sick. The snake was sliding itself against her once more, coiling twice as if it intended to strangle her. Voldemort merely watched. “But I do not sanction marriages between my Death Eaters unless both bear a mark. It would appear that one of you is missing it.”

Kit shakily released Draco’s hand and held up her left forearm, sliding up her robes and ignoring how the snake hissed in her ear. “I am ready,” she said shakily. She refused to address him as ‘my Lord.’ He was no Christ, and to her ears, it was awkward. 

“Nagini,” said Voldemort, causing the snake to release her and slither back over the table toward him. “Katherine, stand, and come beside your father.”

She pushed out of her hair and did not hesitate to make her way over. Kenneth gripped her right arm and held her in place as she offered Voldemort her left arm. He looked up at her, knowing that she was afraid, but admiring that she was not daring to show it. He pressed his wand onto her skin and she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, a searing pain shooting through her and making her face grow pale as the deep black skull and snake appeared, just how it looked on the arms of those around her. It stung, and she teared up, but forced the tears to not fall down, keeping her eyes open so that they would dry. As Draco’s had been before, the skin around the mark had peeled and reddened.

“Very good,” said Voldemort almost mockingly. After all, she was the only ‘child’ in the room, not yet seventeen. “Return to your seat.” 

She did so and without caring to hide it this time, Draco took her hand and held it as she sank back into her chair.

Voldemort said nothing of the matter. “Kenneth, Yaxley— you will be in charge of ensuring the Ministry falls. This is your most important task. Severus, you will seek to gather any information you can regarding Harry Potter. Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan— you will continue rounding up and killing whoever may stand in our way, of those who are not in hiding. Seize control of any smaller establishments. The rest of you have already been given tasks before, and I will ask you to continue. If your surname is not Thompson, Lestrange, or Malfoy, I ask you leave now.”

There was a shuffle as the majority of those from the inner circle departed without another word. The table was left relatively empty as Voldemort turned to those who remained. “My loyal Alana,” he said, facing Kit’s sister. “You have kept yourself ready and healthy, and it is your time. I request your presence in my chambers tonight. You may depart to prepare.”

Alana left with a simple nod. Voldemort watched her leave, and then turned to Rabastan. “You have procured all the materials we have asked of you?”

“Yes, my Lord,” he said indifferently, unfazed that his wife was going to be in bed with another man that night. “All of them are in our room so that Alana will have anything handy. We have taken the room beside Katherine’s for that purpose.”

Voldemort nodded. “Very well. You made certain to procure the books, I assume?”

“Yes, my Lord, those in particular.”

“Good. Kenneth.” He faced him. “You will transfer all your research to your daughter so that they may ensure my first heir is born without complications.”

This had stunned Kit’s father. She’d never seen him look so nervous. “My Lord? You… are certain of this?”

“Yes, Kenneth. I am certain. Do not question me. You have conveyed that your daughter is bright, and your research will not continue to be hidden from her. Was it not you who told me that your daughter, Katherine, had figured out Alana’s purpose on her own without any influence on your part?”

“Yes, my Lord, but—”

“Do not defy me, Kenneth,” said Voldemort sharply. “Your daughter will not leave the premises, as long as your spells have been cast as well as you claim. The research will not be given to the outside world.”

Rabastan let out a small snicker at this. “My Lord, I believe Kenneth is afraid his daughter will be intelligent enough to remove my wife’s curse.”

Voldemort took this into consideration. “What say you, Bellatrix, and Rodolphus? Is it a risk worth taking?”

“I believe so, my Lord,” said Rodolphus. “No one has ever come close to countering Kenneth’s curses. I have known him many years, and not even Severus has ever been able to comprehend his research. The girl will not manage it. It is complex.”

“My Lord,” Bellatrix continued after her husband, leaning closer to Voldemort. “The girl does not have the brains for it. Kenneth is attempting to dissuade you out of a cowardly fear.”

“Do not address me as a coward, Bella,” snarled Kenneth, causing the dark haired woman to turn to him. “Might I remind you how much we have accomplished at my hands? You do not know my daughters as I do. I am merely wanting to take precaution so that the Dark Lord does not lose the mother of his child.”

Voldemort watched the exchange. “I believe, Bella, that Kenneth has a point. It is a risk.” He turned to Narcissa and Lucius. “And you? She is your goddaughter, after all.”

Lucius cleared his throat. “If Alana and Alison could not remove their own curses, why would someone who does not know what it feels like, pose a threat? My goddaughter is not dull, but this is far out of her area of expertise.”

Narcissa looked up next. “I do not believe we need fear that she will discover anything. Kit is intelligent, and she will comprehend what she needs in order to attend to her sister. But nothing more will come. She does not have the resources for it, here. I’m… certain she will be too occupied to do more than study up on how to work through the pregnancy of a child holding such power. She intends to be a Healer, therefore, we should not fear that anything will go wrong. Grant her the research.”

Voldemort nodded. “Kenneth, the research. Deliver it to your daughter by the day after next. Every last journal.”

Albeit very hesitant, Kenneth conceded. Kit had to keep herself from looking too excited. This was it. Her father’s research would give her everything she needed to finalize her search for the countercurse. It’d be filled with information about how he made the spells, which would reap an enormous benefit.

“Katherine,” said Voldemort at last. “Speak.”

She acted as casual as she could, ignoring the stinging on her arm. “If my task is to help my sister, I will do it. All the books and research will ensure the child is born healthy.”

“See to it that this is true,” Voldemort stated. His lips curled once more. “Draco and Katherine. I will grant you permission to see each other. As a husband and wife might. The Dark Lord, after all, is merciful, and your union should not be disrupted now that you are both in my ranks. Consider yourselves… wed.”

Kit kept herself from shivering, and simply squeezed Draco’s hand. They knew that this wasn’t to reward them. It was a threat. A warning. They’d be allowed to interact and grow closer so that it would keep them from acting out.

They were the most disposable out of all the Death Eaters.


	83. Chapter 83

**Draco and Kit were each other’s only reasons for remaining sane.**

The weeks had gone on and they were cooped up at Thompson Manor. Draco had been moved into her room, and the Death Eaters were having a good time jeering at them and teasing them, because according to Voldemort, they were to be treated like a married couple.

“I swear to Merlin’s saggy left testile, I’m going to split them all in half,” snarled Draco after yet another meeting. 

“I’ll help you,” she scoffed, tossing the extra pillows aside as he went to kick off his shoes. “If I could do magic, I would hex one of them.”

“I’m sick of them laughing. They fucking know that this isn’t what we wanted. He’s just doing this to make sure neither of us step out of line.”

“He doesn’t even say anything in a civil way. All commanding and expecting everyone to call him their Lord… fucking gross.”

“It’s suspicious he hasn’t asked you to check on your sister yet.”

“Right?” she agreed, flopping onto the bed. “He explicitly said just to keep reading the books Rabastan got and going through my father’s research. I mean, seriously, am I expected to just study obstetrics and never do anything hands on until the birth? We haven’t even confirmed she’s with child yet, which is gross to even think about.”

Draco climbed into the bed beside her. “She must be. They spent every night together for a week, and used spells to ensure it went through. If she isn’t, then she’ll be the one getting in trouble, you’ll see.” 

He pulled her into his arms and she let out a shaky sigh. “Did your parents tell you any news about the outside world, yet?” she whispered. 

“No. Mother has been trying to find out what’s going on but Father hasn’t got the same prestige anymore. Your father definitely knows, but he’s not about to tell us…”

“He’s still cross that I got access to his research... “ She leaned in to whisper in his ear, in case someone was trying to listen in. “I swear, I’m right on the brink of finding out how to start making the countercurse. I just… need time and resources. His research isn’t enough.”

Draco paused to think. “My mother and I can try and get you any books from around, since we can move about. I just… I don't want to leave you alone in here if you can’t get outside except for meetings.”

“I can survive a few hours alone if it means I can get some books. I swear, I think I can figure out how to lift Alana’s curse and this stupid hex on my room. I just… wouldn’t be able to do it myself. Not until I’m seventeen. I hate being born so bloody late in the year.”

"My mother and I will bring you what we can," Draco promised, tilting her face up and kissing her gently. "We will help you, no matter what. Our priority is helping you escape. Somehow, you need to get back so the Order can protect you."

"They won't want to protect me," she murmured, brushing some hair out of his face. "Not after everything..."

"Don't say that. They still value you. They just need to hear you out. It will be okay— I'll help you escape."

"You might get really hurt. I don't want that to happen— not to you and your mother."

"We agreed in private that if anyone gets to get out safely, it's you. We're willing to die for it. You would be able to warn the Order and only you can free Alana. No way in hell I'll let you keep suffering here."

He caressed her face and placed another kiss on her lips. "I love you. I will get you your freedom. I promise. Whatever it takes."

Outside of meetings, the only consistent face she got to see was Draco’s. Occasionally, she could hear a muffled conversation between Alana and Rabastan in the next room. Her father didn’t come to visit her, and Narcissa was the only one who tried to make herself known, though she couldn’t do it often enough due to Lucius being afraid she’d get in trouble.

Kit wasn’t sure how she would have managed, were it not for Draco. She was scared and felt so isolated, but at the end of every day, he held her in his arms while she fell asleep, and if she had nightmares, he awoke and prepared her a warm bath or gave her a massage. He scattered gentle kisses all over her face in the morning, and whispered soothing words in passing while she conducted her research. 

Draco would definitely have lost his mind were it not for Kit. He was not used to being cooped up in the same room all day, but he felt grateful to be with her, and know that she was safe. He felt comforted just hearing her muttering to herself, and whenever she tried to sing to him, her voice trembling, he felt soothed and appreciated. He didn’t need anyone in the world but her. Voldemort seemed to be biding his time before trying to gain information from her, and it pleased Draco that for the time being, Kit was going to be left unharmed.

The following evening, the meeting had been more eventful.

For one, there had been a body hanging above the table. Kit did not dare look at the face, she felt too nervous. 

“Yaxley. Snape,” said Voldemort. They had been the only ones missing as the meeting began. “You are very nearly late. Severus, here. Yaxley— beside Dolohov.”

The two men took their allotted places. Most of the eyes around the table followed Snape and it was to him that Voldemort spoke first. “So?”

“My Lord, the Order of the Phoenix intends to move Harry Potter from his current place of safety on Saturday next, at nightfall.”

“Saturday... at nightfall,” repeated Voldemort. “Good. Very good. And this information comes—”

“From the source we discussed,” said Snape.

Yaxley leaned forward to look at Voldemort and Snape. “My Lord, I have heard differently.” When Voldemort did not speak, he went on. “Dawlish, the Auror, let slip that Potter will not be moved until the thirtieth, the night before the boy turns seventeen.”

Snape was smiling. “My source told me that there are plans to lay a false trail; this must be it. No doubt a Confundus Charm has been placed upon Dawlish. It would not be the first time, he is known to be susceptible.”

“I assure you, my Lord, Dawlish seemed quite certain,” said Yaxley.

“If he has been Confunded, naturally he is certain,” said Snape. “I assure you, Yaxley, the Auror Office will play no further part in the protection of Harry Potter. The Order believes that we have infiltrated the Ministry.”

“They are not mistaken, then,” stated Kenneth with a malicious smirk. 

“My Lord,” Yaxley went on, “Dawlish believes an entire party of Aurors will be used to transfer the boy—”

Voldemort held up a large, white hand and Yaxley subsided at once, watching resentfully as Voldemort turned back to Snape. “Where are they going to hide the boy next?”

“At the home of one of the Order,” said Snape. “The place, according to the source, has been given every protection that the Order and Ministry together could provide. I think that there is little chance of taking him once he is there, my Lord, unless, of course, the Ministry has fallen before next Saturday, which might give us the opportunity to discover and undo enough of the enchantments to break through the rest.”

“This should be no problem,” Kenneth stated smoothly. “Yaxley and I have managed to catch everyone close to Pius Thicknesse, and he is now under my control. I know how he must function, as of course, I was once Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He has regular contact with the Heads of the other Ministry departments, as well as Rufus Scrimgeour. I will admit that we are still a bit aways— the coordination must be perfect. But I guarantee that by the second day of August, the Ministry will be ours.”

Voldemort nodded. “Your honesty is valued, Kenneth. In matters concerning the boy… if we cannot touch him at his destination, then it must be done while he travels.”

“We are at an advantage there, my Lord,” said Yaxley, who seemed determined to receive some portion of approval. “We now have several people planted within the Department of Magical Transport. If Potter Apparates or uses the Floo Network, we shall know immediately.”

“He will not do either,” said Snape. “The Order is eschewing any form of transport that is controlled or regulated by the Ministry; they mistrust everything to do with the place.”

“All the better,” said Voldemort. “He will have to move in the open. Easier to take, by far. I shall attend to the boy in person. There have been too many mistakes where Harry Potter is concerned. Some of them have been my own. That Potter lives is due more to my errors, than to his triumphs. I have been careless, and so have been thwarted by luck and chance, those wreckers of all but the best laid plans. But I know better now. I understand those things that I did not understand before. I must be the one to kill Harry Potter, and I shall be.”

At these words, seemingly in response to them, a sudden wail sounded, a terrible, drawn-out cry of misery and pain. Kit shivered. She knew that they had used the downstairs area of the Manor to hold prisoners. Who they were, she did not yet know. 

“Wormtail,” said Voldemort, “have I not spoken to you about keeping our prisoner quiet?”

Kit glanced over to Peter Pettigrew, who she rarely ever paid attention to. He scrambled from his seat and scurried from the room, leaving nothing behind him but a curious gleam of silver.

“As I was saying,” continued Voldemort, “I understand better now. I shall need, for instance, to borrow a wand from one of you before I go to kill Potter.” 

“Take mine, my Lord,” stated Alana, who seemed to be the only one keen to volunteer. “I do not require it.” 

His lips curled upward. “Very good. What is it?”

“Black walnut wood, my Lord,” she stated. “And a unicorn hair core.”

“Very suitable,” he stated with a nod. “But, I will grant you a replacement wand in the meantime.” He looked up toward where Draco and Kit were sitting. “Lucius, I see no reason for you to have a wand anymore. Alana’s will suit me, and you ought to do well and give her yours.”

Lucius looked up, his skin growing yellowish as every day passed. He put his hand into his robes and withdrew his wand, passing it to Alana. “Elm wood,” he said a bit hoarsely. “And a dragon heartstring core.”

“Good,” said Voldemort, before letting out a low hiss. From the other room, Nagini came in, slithering down the floor and rising to rest across Voldemort’s shoulders, as she usually did. “You should be proud, Lucius.”

Bellatrix, seeing that both Lucius and Narcissa did not seem pleased with him being demoted, chimed in. “He is proud, my Lord. There can be no higher pleasure than to serve you.”

“No higher pleasure,” repeated Voldemort, his head tilted a little to one side as he considered Bellatrix. “That means a great deal, Bellatrix, from you.”

Her face flooded with colour; her eyes welled with tears of delight, which made Alana grit her teeth, apparently feeling jealous. “My Lord knows I speak nothing but the truth!” Bellatrix cried.

“No higher pleasure... even compared with the happy event that, I hear, has taken place in your family this week?”

She stared at him, her lips parted, evidently confused. “I don’t know what you mean, my Lord.”

“I’m talking about your niece, Bellatrix. And yours, Lucius and Narcissa. She has just married the werewolf, Remus Lupin. You must be so proud.”

Kit tensed, and under the table, Draco squeezed her hand reassuringly. How had Kit not known that Remus and Tonks had been a thing? Granted, she’d only seen Tonks a few times last summer, but this was such bizarre news.

All across the table, jeering laughter sounded once more. Kenneth and Alana smirked. Alana seemed especially pleased, seeing Bellatrix’s face turning an ugly, blotchy red. It sickened Kit to think that Alana and Bellatrix were both competing for the Dark Lord’s attention and acknowledgement. 

“She is no niece of ours, my Lord,” Bellatrix cried over the outpouring of mirth. “We— Narcissa and I— have never set eyes on our sister since she married the Mudblood. This brat has nothing to do with either of us, nor any beast she marries.”

“What say you, Draco?” asked Voldemort, and though his voice was quiet, it carried clearly through the catcalls and jeers. “Will you and Katherine babysit the cubs? After all, I expect after all your time alone together, you’ll have children of your own to care for…”

The hilarity mounted, and Draco and Kit refrained from looking at anyone. They hated being picked on. 

“Enough,” said Voldemort, stroking the angry snake. “Enough.”

And the laughter died at once.

“Many of our oldest family trees become a little diseased over time,” he said, as Bellatrix gazed at him, breathless and imploring. “You must prune yours, must you not, to keep it healthy? Cut away those parts that threaten the health of the rest.”

“Yes, my Lord,” whispered Bellatrix, and her eyes swam with tears of gratitude again. “At the first chance!”

“You shall have it,” said Voldemort. “And in your family, so in the world... we shall cut away the canker that infects us until only those of the true blood remain…”

Voldemort raised Alana’s wand, pointed it directly at the slowly revolving figure suspended over the table and gave it a tiny flick. The figure came to life with a groan and began to struggle against invisible bonds. Kit looked up, and nearly threw up when she realized who it was. 

“Do you recognise our guest, Severus?” asked Voldemort.

Snape raised his eyes to the upside-down face. All of the Death Eaters were looking up at the captive now, as though they had been given permission to show curiosity. As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman said, in a cracked and terrified voice, “Severus! Help me!”

“Ah, yes,” said Snape, as the prisoner turned slowly away again.

“And you, Draco?” asked Voldemort, stroking the snake’s snout with his wand-free hand. Draco shook his head— he had not taken Muggle Studies. “But you would not have taken her classes. You, Katherine?”

Kit nodded slowly, and Voldemort turned to the rest. “For those of you who do not know, we are joined here tonight by Charity Burbage who, until recently, taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Yes… Professor Burbage taught the children of witches and wizards all about Muggles... how they are not so different from us…”

“Filth,” sneered Kenneth, looking up at her as she pleaded. “Not even worthy to be in our presence.”

“Silence,” said Voldemort, with another twitch of Alana’s wand, and Burbage fell silent as if gagged. “Not content with corrupting and polluting the minds of wizarding children, last week Professor Burbage wrote an impassioned defence of Mudbloods in the Daily Prophet. Wizards, she says, must accept these thieves of their knowledge and magic. The dwindling of the pure-bloods is, says Professor Burbage, a most desirable circumstance... she would have us all mate with Muggles... or, no doubt, werewolves…”

Nobody laughed this time: there was no mistaking the anger and contempt in Voldemort’s voice. Tears were pouring from Professor Burbage’s eyes into her hair. Snape looked back at her, quite impassive, as she turned slowly away from him again. Her gaze caught onto Kit, who was trying desperately not to react, not to show any greater recognition.

“ _Avada Kedavra_.”

The flash of green light illuminated every corner of the room. The body fell, with a resounding crash, on to the table below, which trembled and creaked, facing Kit, who had to force her emotions down, suppressing any sort of terrified reaction. She would not dare to show that she was afraid. Draco had squeezed her hand almost bruisingly tight as they gazed at the dead Professor’s wide open eyes.

“Dinner, Nagini,” said Voldemort softly, and the great snake swayed and slithered from his shoulders onto the polished wood. “Dismissed, except for Draco, Katherine, and Alana.”

The majority of the Death Eaters shuffled out. 

“Come closer,” Voldemort commanded. Alana moved to sit right beside him, and Kit and Draco followed suit. His red eyes drifted over Alana’s figure before fixating on Kit. “Your research should be sufficient. Tell us, is your sister with child?”

Kit swallowed. “My Lord, the spell to do it— I cannot perform it without being detected by the Ministry, as I am not yet of age.”

“No matter.” He raised his wand, and a silvery blue light created a sort of dome around the four of them. “Quickly. Now.”

Kit extracted her wand and put her hand awkwardly over Alana’s still relatively flat belly. She pointed her wand nearer to where her belly button was. “ _Homenum Revelio, Profero Parvulus_.”

It was as though a strange holograph had appeared where Kit’s hand and wand were meant to be. Voldemort and Draco did not speak as she traced her wand around the small circle that was revealing the inside of her sister’s body. Kit knew exactly what to look for, and though it was still early, she could confirm it.

“She’s pregnant,” said Kit quietly, dropping the spell. Voldemort lowered the dome, a sick grin on his face.

“Well done,” he said, gazing at Alana in a way that made Kit feel very afraid. She had not expected his look to be endearing, but it seemed as though he was feeling some sort of nauseated lust, though the majority must have been some sort of pride, having managed to secure a pregnancy that would grant him a child. 

“My Lord,” said Alana, tears of joy in her eyes that made Kit’s stomach churn, repulsed. “I devote myself to you— I will ensure your child is the strongest possible!”

“ _Our_ child,” Voldemort said, causing her to cry as though this was the highest praise she could have ever achieved in life. Draco and Kit felt very out of place, watching them rejoice over a child that would not bring them any good. “You are dismissed, Alana. Share the news with your husband. I’m sure he will be pleased to hear that his step-child is on the way.”

Alana left, and Voldemort faced Kit once more. “A female, or a male?” he inquired.

“I don’t know,” said Kit, daring to look him in the eyes. “It’s too early to tell. It has not developed yet. I don’t think it matters, either way, they can identify however they want. It does not change the fact it will be born with great power.”

Voldemort considered this. “Very well.” He looked between them. “And you? Shall we expect any children from you?”

“No,” said Draco, squeezing Kit’s hand so hard she felt one of her fingers crack. “We shall not.”

“Are heirs not desirable for the Malfoy and Thompson lines?” he inquired. “Your grandparents chose to procreate to grant me more soldiers. You should consider doing the same.”

“I don’t want children,” said Kit bluntly. “Never.”

Voldemort seemed to find this amusing. “And yet, you studied the process of creating and birthing children to no end, when you could have been learning about anything else.”

“I don’t see you objecting to me having studied it,” she muttered. “You’re exploiting it so that my sister will be healthy.”

“Does it not please you that your sister will be in safe hands? Not… left to die in childbirth?”

“I could care less about her,” said Kit venomously. “Or your child. I’m not doing this for anyone but Draco.”

“Ah, yes,” sighed Voldemort, as if he was mocking her. “All for Draco.” His snake eyes scanned over her face. “Tell me, Katherine, what do you know about the Order?”

“They were made to oppose you,” she said, since that was common knowledge. 

“And who are the leaders?”

“Leaders?” said Kit blankly, feigning confusion. “I was under the impression Dumbledore was the sole leader. I don’t know who succeeded him after his death.”

“What members do you know of?”

Her mouth felt dry. “Are you inquiring because you do not know, or because you want to see what I’ll say?” she said out of impulse. “I didn’t meet many of them. The ones I know were the ones at the Ministry— those, you are well aware of.”

Voldemort’s red eyes seemed to darken, though he still looked amused. “So be it. I was… merely intrigued to discover any that you harbor sentiments for. Perhaps… I might be merciful when we encounter their resistance in retrieving Harry Potter.”

“I harbor sentiments for none,” she said scathingly, hoping her thumping heart wouldn’t be heard. The last thing she wanted was for any of those who had been kind to her to get hurt. “I do not believe in this cause but I will not hold attachments to them.”

“And yet, rather than telling me any useful information, you conceal it. Occlumency. Who taught that to you?”

“I did, my Lord,” said Draco immediately. “I thought she ought to learn, if she was going to help me in my task.”

“I don’t know anything of use,” Kit insisted as Voldemort glanced at Draco. “They didn’t trust me— they feared any knowledge would be granted to my father if he caught me. I know nothing of use. I know not which new members may have been recruited, nor which members may have run to not be in the conflict. I know not what they planned— they kept me in the dark about it, and there is nothing I know that will grant you the upper hand.”

“You may retire to your bedchambers,” stated Voldemort, beckoning for them to stand. “We will see how the Order fares next Saturday. Any dead bodies we create… their heads will be brought for exhibit. Then, Katherine, we'll determine whether you harbor sentiments for any of them.”


	84. Chapter 84

**They were in bed when Kit had a crazy idea.**

It was Saturday afternoon, the day the Death Eaters would go and attempt to get Harry away from the Order. After a very tense breakfast where Kit and Draco had heard them bragging about who they intended to kill, they’d gone up to do a bit more research before having decided to take a nap. They’d only just awoken now, and had been laying in each other’s arms relaxing, and not yet wanting to get out of bed. 

“Holy fuck,” Kit said suddenly, sitting up, her brows furrowed in thought. 

She had already tried everything. She’d attempted to devise a spell to send a note of warning to the Order. She’d tried to write a coded letter, but they’d soon learned there were no owls in the Manor. At last, it was the day of, and she couldn’t just sit idly by without attempting to warn them. 

“What?” said Draco, following suit. They’d been napping, and he still looked half awake. “What’s ‘holy fuck?’”

“The fucking Patronus!” she said, leaping up and going to her notes. “We can send them a Patronus! I didn’t think of it before, because I can’t do the spell myself, but you can help me!”

“I’ve never cast a Patronus Charm,” he said worriedly. “I don’t think I can do it…”

“No, you don’t need to cast the Patronus Charm. The dome— the one the Dark Lord made the other night. You can cast that, and I can send the Patronus!”

“But how do we do that, Kit Kat?” he asked, rubbing his eyes and forcing himself to wake up completely. 

She was speeding around the room, looking through all the books he’d slowly gathered for her. She pulled out a particular one regarding Detection and Blocking Spells, and started to scan through it, not speaking for a solid ten minutes as he eyes flew over the page. Draco took his time to go to the bathroom, and returned after washing his face, sitting down next to her and peering over her shoulder. “Found anything yet?”

“Almost,” she said. She was marking each page that yielded something useful. “It’s going to take a bit of practice but you can pull it off, I know it— here!” 

She jabbed a finger at a paragraph on the page. “That’s it. Seventh year level, meaning it’s a bit of a reach, but nothing too crazy. Here, I’ll be right back.”

She dashed into the bathroom, and returned minutes later, beginning to read over the paragraph with him. Draco faltered. “Kit Kat, are you sure you want to take this risk?” he inquired. “If they catch us…”

“They deserve a warning, Draco,” she insisted. “Mr. and Mrs. Weasley will likely be apart of it, their kids, and Alastor and Remus and Sirius and Kingsley… I can’t just sit idly by and not do anything when I have the power to. I can make sure they all live.”

Draco nodded slowly. “Look, I am willing to help in any way I can but are you sure? You’re risking your safety to protect the guy that ignored you— the one your friends supported in ignoring you.”

“Harry may be a prick but he’s still important to getting rid of the Dark Lord. I can’t let my feelings against him get in the way. This is the right thing to do.”

Draco had ceased fighting against it. “Alright. Let me start learning the spell…”

The next hour was chilling. The house felt colder every passing day, and as they could see the sun beginning to set outside, they felt more and more nervous. Time was short, and it was of the essence. Draco was very good at learning on the fly, but this was no simple spell in a Charms classroom. It was a matter of life or death. Kit feared that if she didn’t get a message out, someone would end up very hurt. 

“I think I have it down,” said Draco, waking his wand and causing a smaller version of Voldemort’s silver-blue dome to appear. It only held for about thirty seconds before shattering. “It’s not going to be as strong as his but it will be something. How fast can you get the Patronus?”

“Shouldn’t take me too long,” she said, seeing pitch black darkness outside. “But I can’t practice until the dome is up.”

“You better hope that you can get it and the message done in thirty seconds,” he huffed, some sweat breaking out onto his forehead. “Ready?”

“As ready as I can be,” she said, raising her wand. 

As soon as the dome went up, Kit waved her wand, and by sheer luck, the brown bear burst out at the first try. “Holy shit,” she breathed, before quickly waving her wand in a figure eight in the air and beginning to speak rapidly. “ _Alastor, it’s Kit. The Dark Lord knows. Do not move Harry tonight_.” Another figure eight, and she sent the Patronus off, well before the dome above it broke. 

They watched it slip out of the window and out into the sky. The bear sauntered out into the darkness, a blur of silver in the distance. “It should get to them soon,” said Kit, bringing her hand to her mouth and covering it from the excitement. “This— we should have thought of this sooner! They’ll be okay, though, we can keep them from—”

The door burst open behind them, and Draco and Kit were both caught off guard seeing Kenneth Thompson there, glaring. “Idiot girl,” he snarled. “You think I did not take precautions to monitor your spells while you are under this roof?”

“It’s too late,” said Kit, unable to contain the satisfied and triumphant smirk from her face. “You’ll have to get new information.”

Kenneth fired a spell, but both Kit and Draco were ready to block. They each fired a hex back, which were easily dodged by the unfortunately more experienced wizard. “You little brats!” he sneered. “The Dark Lord will finally kill you for this—” he jabbed his wand into the air and Kit’s went flying. She and Draco both thought to try to catch it, and Kenneth took his shot.

“ _Crucio_!”

Kit let out a pained scream and fell to the floor, twitching and writhing. “NO!” yelled Draco, firing at Kenneth and disrupting the spell, causing the man across from him to stagger back toward the open doorway. 

“Draco— DRACO NO!” screamed Kit, her vision blurred as her father fired a spell that sent the blond flying back into a wall, nearly hitting a window, which surely would have broken and caused him to fall to his death, three stories below.

Draco was not about to give up as Kenneth lunged back at Kit, yanking her up and slamming his fist down on her face so hard that blood spurted out of her nose, a loud crack sounding that made her wail out. 

“LEAVE HER ALONE!” Draco bellowed, tackling Kenneth to the floor. Though Kenneth was strong, his age left him weak in standing his ground. Fists flew and Kit felt blood pouring out of her nose, making her sob and see fuzzy red as she tried to keep Draco from being killed. 

“STOP IT! FATHER, LEAVE HIM ALONE!” she screamed, reaching for Kenneth’s wand and snatching it away. But it flew out of her hands just as she clasped her hand around it. “ _EXPELLIARMUS! IMPEDIMENTA!_ ” a new voice yelled. 

Draco shot back, his face bloody and bruised, looking up wildly as Rabastan Lestrange stood in the doorway. He didn’t seem to care about Kit and Draco being hurt, but he certainly wasn’t about to comfort Kenneth. “Idiot!” he snarled. “The Patronus got away!”

“Don’t chastise me, boy!” snarled Kenneth as he picked up his wand and wiped his nose. The cut on his cheek had reopened because of the rings on Draco’s fingers. He whirled to face Kit and Draco, looking murderous. “Just wait— the Dark Lord will end you! You useless bloody brats!”

He stormed out, obviously to see if he could destroy the Patronus in time. Kit scrambled to Draco, but was pulled back by Rabastan, who kicked Draco right in the face. 

“Stupid little girl,” he snarled, yanking Kit away from him. “You just love causing trouble, don’t you? Who did you send that Patronus to?”

“No one!” she cried. “No one! Leave me alone!”

“Fine, I know that after some pain, you’ll talk. _Crucio_!”

She screamed as he dropped her to the floor again, writhing and twitching desperately, her mind feeling as though it was on fire. “Tell me who you sent that Patronus to!” Rabastan roared angrily. “TELL ME!”

“NO!” she screamed. “I’m not fucking telling you!” 

He pulled her up and shook her violent, her skin stinging from his touch, her teeth clattering inside her mouth as he made everything so much blurrier. “TALK! Or we’ll kill all your little friends, and bring all their heads right here, pinned to the wall for them to stare at you even when you sleep!”

“Rabastan,” came a sharp voice behind him. It was Rodolphus. “We are leaving.”

“I will meet you there,” said Rabastan. “Go on without me, brother. I must first determine who she sent the Patronus to.”

“Fine. But don’t dawdle. You need to meet Travers.”

He left, and Kit kneed Rabastan in the groin, trying to get away. In a flash, his fist collided with her eye, making her cry out in pain again, her vision going dark as he put her in a chokehold. She thrashed around but did not tell him anything, which made him release her, furious.

“You know what?” he said darkly. “There is only one punishment that would suffice, considering that nothing your father has done has ever worked.”

“NO!” she screamed as he threw her onto the bed. “NO— NO— LEAVE ME ALONE! PLEASE!”

“No one’s going to come to your aid, pretty,” he cooed, waving his wand and freezing her into place. “They’re leaving now, to get your little Potter friend. You’re not going to be saved.” He started to undo his trousers. “Your sister won’t care if I have some fun, considering the Dark Lord hasn’t let her please me. And your little boyfriend will have to watch as I—”

“ _AVADA KEDAVRA!_ ”

Kit let out another scream as a bright green light flashed through the room, and Rabastan fell, eyes wide and open, hands still having been undoing the buttons. 

Draco was standing, looking downright murderous, his wand still pointed at Rabastan’s dead body. Blood seeped down all over his shirt, his blue eyes seeming five shades darker as he glared down at the man, absolutely no remorse visible in his expression.

Kit started to hyperventilate, and Draco dropped his wand, running to her side. “Hey— hey, Kit Kat, it’s me— breathe— just breathe—” he took her hands and put them on his face, smearing her palms with blood and tears. He had never felt so afraid. He hadn’t even hesitated— not the way he had when he’d been before Dumbledore. Dumbledore had been an innocent man in his eyes, but Rabastan was a monster, and there was no way he was about to let him hurt Kit in such a vile way.

“No!” she whimpered, not able to see him. “No— don’t touch— don’t touch—”

“Kit Kat!” Draco said, releasing her and quickly undoing the spell that was freezing her in place. “Just— listen to my voice. I’m here and I’m not going to hurt you.”

She sobbed uncontrollably, her body trembling as she held his face, shaking her head and spouting incoherent words, her mind in a frenzy. Terrified and in shock, she couldn’t believe what’d happened or what might’ve happened if Draco hadn’t intervened.

Narcissa came running in minutes later, once ever other Death Eater in the house aside from Alana had left. “Oh dear Merlin,” she cried, running to them. “ _Scourgify! Episkey—_ ” 

Kit let out a hoarse cry as Narcissa mended her broken nose, not daring to look toward where the dead body was in her room. “There— there,” her godmother said, her voice shaking. “You’re alright, you’re alright—” she turned to her son. “Did he try—?”

“Yes,” said Draco savagely, glaring over at Rabastan hatefully. “I killed him, Mother.”

Narcissa kept from any negative reaction as she wiped cast another spell, fixing Kit’s eyes and letting her see again. “Darling, you’re safe— I’m here, we’re not letting anyone hurt you—”

“RABASTAN!”

Alana had finally decided to show up. She let out a strangled cry as she dropped beside her husband. “What did you do?” she screeched. “What did you do?”

“Get out!” snarled Narcissa, wielding her wand against the younger female. “Now! Take the stupid body with you!”

Alana was not keen on fighting Narcissa, but she glared hatefully at Draco, already knowing what had happened. She yanked at the body, not crying, rather looking rageful as she dragged it out of the room. With a flick of her wand, Narcissa shut the door. “There, there, Kit,” she said, stroking her hair and helping her to lay down. “Breathe, darling, breathe.”

Draco ran to the nearby cabinet and extracted some more pillows, helping to prop Kit up. He reached for a nearby glass of water and coaxed it toward his mother, who beckoned it to Kit. She drank, still crying, as Draco moved off to the side and cleaned himself up with several spells. 

Even when Kit stopped crying, she couldn’t stop shaking. “You killed him,” she breathed to Draco as he sat beside her, an hour later. “You killed him…”

“Of course I did,” said Draco, taking her hand. “He was going to hurt you.”

She threw her arms around him and pulled her into a tight hug, trembling nonstop even when he rubbed her back soothingly.

“I’m so sorry,” breathed Narcissa from where she stood behind them. “This— I wish there was a way to get you both out safely. I feel so helpless…”

“I-It’s not your fault,” said Kit as she pulled away from Draco, who continued to rub her back. “Draco… you’re going to get in a lot of trouble…”

“I’m willing to die, if it means I got to protect you, Kit Kat,” he said without hesitation. “He deserved it.”

“Rabastan has not been as valuable as he once was,” said Narcissa. “Not since he learned of Alana’s duty. He is jealous. The Dark Lord has noticed this. He will not be missed all that much. I promise you both, Lucius and I will do anything to keep you both safe from this. I believe Kenneth was able to catch the Patronus, therefore everything should have still gone through. Your father is sadly very good at tracking and blocking such spells, Kit.”

The truth would come at the meeting, which took place half an hour later. There were not as many Death Eaters as there had been before. Several had clearly been killed, judging by the looks on everyone’s faces. They had solicited the help of unbranded Death Eaters as well, which had likely consisted of the majority of the casualties, since they were not trained as much and were typically weaker— otherwise, they would be part of the inner circle and would have the mark.

Voldemort glared around at the table at the injured Death Eaters, not yet acknowledging Kit and Draco. Alana’s face was stained with tears. Kenneth looked quite maimed. Snape’s expression was blank, but there was an air of satisfaction around it.

“Many in our ranks have been killed tonight,” said Voldemort in a deadly voice. “This was expected. Their deaths are meaningless, as the majority of us are still quite intact. I am disappointed that these deaths were caused by a lack of function in the wand I was given.”

He turned to Alana. “Hand me Lucius’s wand.” Slowly, she gave it to him. “This will have to suffice.” He then turned to Kenneth. “You brag of your expertise. Your skill. And what did you do, just before we required your presence? You went off to chase a Patronus. I would have preferred the Patronus arrive, and we instead lay in wait, because they would need to move him within the next few days, prior to the 31st. And even so, rather than chasing the Patronus right away, you went to confront your daughter. You could not hold back your impulses even though I explicitly stated that no harm should come to her. She is here for the sole reason of keeping her sister and my heir healthy. And yet, you attempted to kill her.”

“My Lord—” Kenneth began.

“SILENCE!” he snarled. Kenneth’s mouth shut immediately. He looked ashamed. It occurred to Kit that this must be the first time he’d ever been reprimanded for the way he acted. He was so accustomed to going off his own agenda and pushing his powers onto others through violence, that he’d forgotten to serve his master properly.

“You will remain after the meeting so we may discuss,” said Voldemort menacingly. “This will not happen again.”

Now, his snake eyes came onto Kit. “And you, Katherine? I knew you were not loyal. I did not doubt this. But I am curious, who taught you to cast the Patronus in the manner that you did? It is an Order method.”

Kit swallowed hard. “They all did their piece,” she said vaguely. “Everyone had different advice.”

Voldemort did not seem in the mood to grill her about it. "You will demonstrate to me this technique. Now."

She bit her lip and stood up. Before she could wave her wand, he spoke, "Verbally. Every bit of it."

She raised her wand. " _Expecto Patronum_!" The brown bear did not appear the first time. " _Expecto Patronum!_ " She practically had to force it out, that second time, and it appeared over the table, causing several Death Eaters to crane their necks away from it. None of them could produce one of their own. Kit wove her wand in a figure eight, " _Fatour_ ," she breathed. She looked up at the bear. "This is where we'd say a message." She wove her wand once more in a figure eight. " _Mitto_." She released it, but then wove her wand to shatter the spell. She faced Voldemort, who looked pleased with this information. "The entire time, we think of who to send it to, and the Patronus will find them."

"Useful," stated Voldemort. "You have done well. Though we cannot at all excuse your betrayal, I cannot say that I have a torment in mind for you. You have succumbed to enough of that today, and we cannot risk your mind be damaged any further. After all, the Patronus was intercepted before it could make it to its intended receiver. Sit, Katherine."

She felt unsettled by how lenient he was being. Likely, he intended to gain her respect or trust in an attempt to get her to willingly give him information. She would never do such a thing, no matter what. 

Finally, Voldemort looked at Draco. “I find it interesting that you could not kill Dumbledore even after a year’s work, but killed Rabastan in a split second.”

Draco looked up at him, glaring into his red eyes for the first time. “Perhaps your informant failed to mention that he was going to assault the girl you elected to keep your heir safe.”

Voldemort seemed to admire his gall, though Narcissa, Lucius, and Kit all tensed watching the look on his face. “Even I do not condone such behavior.” He faced Alana. “I wonder, why did you not tell me of this?”

Alana looked very put on the spot, and angry. “I did not know, my Lord,” she lied. “I was, after all, making preparations still for the heir. I had placed a Silencing Charm around my room earlier, to rest, as well, since I was feeling a bit unwell.”

It was clear Voldemort did not believe her. “In any case, you are a widow now, are you not? Your child will have no stepfather to rely on. You will carry that burden. I had explicitly stated to you that I wished for Rabastan to be an active part, with your guidance, so that my heir would demonstrate Thompson and Lestrange traits alike.”

Alana hung her head in shame. “Yes, my Lord.”

“You are dismissed. Never lie to me again."

She shuffled away and Voldemort face Draco once again. “You know that your actions cannot go unpunished. Were it not for the fact that I intend for Katherine to remain here willingly to help her sister, I would kill you. But since we are now down a fighter…” he laced his slender fingers together. “You will take Rabastan’s place in my ranks.”

Kit practically broke Draco’s hand from how hard she squeezed it under the table. He was rigid, but did not falter. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Rodolphus will train you,” stated Voldemort, glancing to where Bellatrix’s husband was staring hatefully at Draco. His brother’s murderer. “Rodolphus does not have permission to kill you, as you are essential to us. However, he may train you as harshly as he decides, because after all, he is training you to be in the image of his brother, who you killed.”

“Yes, my Lord,” said Draco with a hard expression, not glancing over at Rodolphus, who seemed to want nothing more than to actually kill Draco. 

Voldemort stood and looked all around the table. “Replenish yourselves. You all have duties to attend to, and I do not wish to have any other mistakes. As for the one Order casualty I managed… Dolohov, the bag.”

The Death Eater called Dolohov raised a bag that was drenched in blood, large and heavy enough to obviously be holding a human head. He stood and came to set the bag down in front of Kit.

“Open it, Katherine,” said Voldemort softly. “Perhaps… this will be punishment enough for the Patronus. After all, I believe… this was the man you sought to send it to.”

Kit’s heart thumped hard as she reached her hands forward and pulled down the top of the sack, letting out a high-pitched scream when she saw Alastor’s face, without his magical eye.


	85. Chapter 85

**Kit had cried for days on end, inconsolable.**

It was all her fault. If she’d done a better job of not being caught at Hogwarts, she wouldn’t be here. If she hadn’t been here, she could have helped the Order, and Alastor might not have died. If she had just been smarter, she would have been able to send the Patronus without being caught by her father.

It pained her greatly to know that Alastor would never know the truth. Whatever he’d heard, he’d think she was a traitor who had only used him so that she could grow stronger. She did not get to see him one last time and truly thank him for how much he had helped her. She had cried more, thinking that she hadn’t appreciated him enough. 

Draco didn’t know how to help her. He hadn’t met the real Alastor Moody and he didn’t really know the full extent of Kit’s relationship with him. He didn’t understand that she’d lost one of her most special father figures, a man who had taken the time to train her and help her after someone stole his identity and hurt her. He could sympathize with the loss, but he felt useless. Kit had already lost her mother, Cedric, and now Alastor, and this seemed to be only the beginning. 

He did the very best he could. He brought her food and held her as she cried, not saying anything. Though he hardly understood her research, he tried to make some notes for her, to boost her progress. He helped her bathe, because she was struggling to take care of herself once more, feeling immensely saddened by what had transpired. Were it not for him, she might have actually slipped away this time.

It was the first of August when the Ministry fell. Kit had heard two days after from Draco that there had been a celebration below, which she had elected not to attend. Scrimgeour was dead and Thicknesse, under Kenneth’s control, was Minister now. The Death Eaters had every resource to track anyone from the Order, and now, they carried a dangerous amount of power. 

Draco felt terrible, because even despite trying his best to help in some way, he had less time to even think of how to approach the situation. Rodolphus’s training was brutal. Every day, he spent the majority of the afternoon learning hexes and curses at a fast pace. He was forced to duel with Rodolphus and Dolohov, who both despised him for killing Rabastan. The physical training was even worse, because Rodolphus did not hold back any punches, and every time he finished, he had to rush to his mother to help heal his bruises so that Kit would not get alarmed when she saw him.

It was terrible but exhilarating. He tried to remain motivated by thinking that this training would help him be able to protect Kit much better, meaning there would be less chance of her getting hurt. He liked to learn and he wasn’t bad at fighting, but it went against what he tried to believe of himself. He didn’t want to be known as a killer, but in his effort to save Kit, he had become one, and now, Rodolphus was molding him into a mercenary to take his brother’s place. Rabastan had left big shoes for Draco to unfortunately fill, so that the Dark Lord would not punish him in a different manner. The last thing he wanted was for his lack of a good job to impact Kit negatively. 

She was spiraling into another depressive episode. The weeks passed and she was not recovering. Though she no longer cried, she had trouble sleeping and eating once more. It seemed she no longer felt worthy of being alive. Draco had already been sent on one brief mission by then, and he was losing faith in himself that he would ever manage to aid her in her recovery. He barely managed to keep her healthy, and with their research bringing no new discoveries, she had no motivation to do anything. She might have let herself slip away, were she not paranoid tha the’d lose his mind if she did. 

It wasn’t until August was almost over that Kit was snapped out of her daze, and it was because of Draco that she did. 

“Kit Kat,” he said gently one morning, having stayed up all night doing some research for her. He was struggling to understand it, still, but he was doing a better job of it. “Kit Kat…” He crawled onto the bed with her, bringing the parchment in front of her eyes, which were almost glassy as she stared at the wall. “You might want to check this out. I think this is something good, isn’t it?”

Kit had sat up weakly. How ashamed Alastor would be of her, not able to work on an important task without wanting to cry. Her mind was clouded with ideas of how angry he’d be at her. She looked over the parchment, and suddenly, for the first time in weeks, color flooded into her face.

“Sweet Merlin,” she breathed, rushing to her desk and examining the other pieces of parchment. “Holy Hufflepuff— this— this is fucking it! This!”

Draco beamed at the sight of her so excited. It seemed after a year of hard research, she had finally found the solution she needed to create her sister’s countercurse. The Ravenclaw spend that entire afternoon while he was training just writing and writing, bringing her ideas to a coherent yet succinct blob that outlined exactly what she’d been thinking the entire time, but hadn’t yet been able to pinpoint.

When Draco returned, she leapt into his arms and kissed him all over, startling him as he tried to hold her upright. “I figured it out!” she squealed, shutting the door and locking it before dragging him to the desk. “This— this might not make sense but it all came together. I know exactly what bits of Horcrux theory he applied into the curse— he fueled it with the fact that he’s killed people before! He fabricated it to eliminate the majority of the risk of being broken, and the spell developed in Alana's brain the entire time she was isolated in Azkaban. The— the component that we need to get her out of this requires a spell to be created in similar fashion, just using some theories and methods for the Killing Curse. This was my father’s backup plan! He rigged it so that if anyone ever figured it out, the Horcrux aspect would bind Alana with a sort of protection. I have to determine how to get past this. Because otherwise, any basic countercurse that we tried would kill her not long after, to ensure we couldn't get any information out of her. It’s going to need to be really specific, but I think I can do it! I think I can remove this curse from her without killing her, Draco! And— why… why are you looking at me like that?”

He was beaming at her with tears in his eyes. “I-I’m just happy, Kit Kat,” he whispered. “You intelligent little thing— you got it. And it’s… it’s so nice to see you smiling again.”

She pulled him closer and kissed him again, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I love you, Draco,” she whispered. “I love you, I love you— I couldn’t have done this without you. You made this possible, you helped me… I’m sorry for having been such a burden.”

“Don’t say that,” he said immediately, cupping her face. “Don’t ever call yourself a burden. You have every right to grieve however you want. You lost someone important to you. Don’t apologize for tuning into your emotions and letting yourself feel loss. I love you, Kit. And you are never a burden.”

She kissed him once more. “Let’s take a bath,” she breathed. “A calm bubble bath. We don’t have a meeting today.”

“We need to talk, then,” he said as he pulled her into the bathroom. He cast a Silencing Charm as she drew up the bath, the large bathtub filling steadily with water. She reached for one of the bottles and added bubbles, ceasing the flow of the water once it reached the top. Undressing, Draco climbed in first, then she, seated on his lap with her back against his chest, his arms around her middle as they both sank into the tub.

“The training is getting better,” whispered Draco. “They’re going to start sending me on more missions. Rodolphus is still mad at me, but he has a sort of grudging respect now, sort of. I’ve gotten good at that whole fighting bit. I never saw myself doing it. But I can protect you more now, which brings me to my next point. My mother found a way to get you out.”

Before she could speak, he cut her off and kept going. “I know you will insist on not leaving without me. But you need to get the hell out of here, Kit. It’s more and more dangerous for you to be here. Alana can manage a pregnancy with just my mother’s guidance, if need be. After all, my mother has actually had a baby. You can subtly leave her your notes, and that way, these next months, my mother and Alana can read up on their own to ensure the child is fine. Not that any of us are thrilled about that, but it’s a kid, nevertheless.”

“A fetus,” pointed Kit. “Not a kid. I may be morbid for saying this but until it can breathe and survive on its own… it’s not really a baby. I know you’re all hoping for a miscarriage, too… I’ve heard others say it. No one likes the idea of an heir.” She nibbled on her lip. “Draco, I don’t want to go without you.”

“But you need to. Don’t worry, we’re taking precautions so that no one knows that we’re involved. My mother is going to take care of it.”

“What’s the plan then?”

“Tomorrow night, some of the unmarked Death Eaters will be present for a larger meeting to touch base. You’re not required to attend, but I am. Which is good, because they won’t know I had anything to do with it. My mother has a way to sneak you out when they drop the charm on your room at the time they usually do, even if you won’t be going to the meeting. She will conceal you and get you out. From there, you will be on your own, taking your broom with you so you can fly out. The Trace is still on you because you’re not seventeen, meaning you can’t Apparate or use magic. You’ll have to blend in with the muggles nearby. Additionally, after we say our goodbyes, my mother will temporarily Obliviate me so I forget the plan— any reaction to your disappearance will be real. Later, once I am calm, she will return the memories.”

“Damn,” whispered Kit. “You both really went into depth about this.”

“Yes. My mother will use a Concealment Charm on you, then will come and do some cleaning spells in her room so that if they check what she did last, there will be no inkling of the fact she helped you. You know she reacts well under pressure and doesn’t clue into her actual thoughts. She told me that she can do a particular spell that will cloak you until you get off of your broom, which of course, will be at a location of your choosing. Don’t take anything other than your wand and some money with you— any clothes can be purchased. Well— actually, you should also take your notes and the journals so you can finish creating the countercurse.”

Kit let out a shaky sigh. This was a good plan, and more than anything, she wanted to get out and help the Order again. But it made her uncertain to leave Draco behind without her.

“I can tolerate being here, Draco,” she whispered. “I-I swear I can…”

“You shouldn’t have to tolerate it. You’re no Death Eater, Kit— your father and sister don’t treat you like family, and aside from me and maybe my mother, there is no reason for you to stay. You deserve to be free and if I can give that to you, then I will. I don’t care what I have to do. This mess is something only I should have been in. And I am so grateful that you, in all your stubborn self, went through it with me. But I can’t ask you to stay and risk being hurt for anything else that happens. You need to be with the people who can protect you the right way.”

“What if they don’t want me back?” she asked quietly.

“Then they’re idiots! If they don’t accept you, I need you to leave the country. Don’t come back unless you know it’s safe. Do you understand me?”

She nodded slowly, sinking further into the water and leaning back to hear how fast his heart was beating. “I… I understand. Even though I don’t want to leave you behind.”

“You have to, Kit. I’m not taking no for an answer this time.”

And he hadn’t. Despite her obvious desire to protest against leaving him behind, the plan had gone into motion. The next afternoon, he had kissed her and hugged her as though he might never see her again, before heading downstairs.

Kit had been fixing up the notes she needed to leave behind and the ones she would take with her. After arranging everything, she went to Alana’s room, and knocked on the door, the charm already off of her room to allow her to leave.

Alana looked very angry as she opened the door for her. Though her belly had not yet grown, she spent every morning hunched over the toilet, purging and feeling sick. There were deep bags under her eyes from a lack of sleep, and she looked downright miserable. 

“What the hell do you want?” she hissed.

“To give you these notes,” said Kit quietly, handing her the parchment. “I know you don’t want to talk to me, so I came to leave you these. You can look at them in your own time to see if you feel better. I’ve outlined your expected monthly progress on this piece here— you should read through the expected symptoms and what you should do to counter them. Whenever you want me to check base, or whenever… he wants me to… then just come to my room.”

Alana suspected nothing. She felt too unwell to question it. She snatched the parchment from her sister and tossed it behind her into the room. “Fine,” she snapped. She glared at her. “You’ve finally stopped fucking wallowing in sadness, haven’t you? Pitiful.”

“I wouldn’t be talking,” said Kit coldly. “Clearly, you’ve got some emotional distress of your own.”

“I’m pregnant with a kid filled with dark magic, and your little boyfriend or husband or fuck buddy or whatever you two are— killed him!”

Kit frowned. “That husband of yours tried to hurt me. And Alastor Moody was one of the closest things I had to a father figure. It’s no secret that our father is a manipulative arse.”

Alana gritted her teeth, but did not retaliate. Clearly, she knew deep down that both Rabastan and Kenneth were rotten to the core, and any pain that came to them, they deserved. “Whatever. Just leave.”

She slammed the door in her face, and Kit scoffed before walking downstairs quietly, and ducking into one of the lower hallways, where she found Narcissa waiting for her with her broomstick.

She cast her a smile, but neither spoke, instead slipping rapidly down to the abandoned wing of the house, and going into one of the lower rooms that had its windows open to air it out. “Thank you for this,” whispered Kit as Narcissa wove her wand to start the Concealment Charm. 

Narcissa nodded, holding a finger to her lips to indicate that she shouldn’t speak again. She looked back at the door before handing her the broom, and waving goodbye. Kit could hear the loud voices of all the gathered Death Eaters a few rooms down, and as Narcissa scurried out, she realized she must be invisible now. She quickly climbed out of the window and mounted her broom right on the grounds, kicking off and soaring into the sky, wasting no time in speeding as far as she could from the house, toward London, where she might find someone to help her.

The wind burned against her face from how fast she was going. She wished she could cast a spell to keep it from hurting, but she’d wrapped her wand tightly inside her parchment to keep her from succumbing to any temptation to use it. She tried to keep her eyes open, but it made them water, which caused some difficulty in seeing. She decided, once she could see King’s Cross in the distance, that she ought to land to avoid any other pain. She was numb from how long she had been sitting on the broom, and tired from how she’d been leaning down to increase her speed. 

She touched down in a back alleyway nearby the Station, and quickly pulled her hair up into a bun. She had purposely not worn makeup so that she would be less recognizable to any Death Eaters— they were accustomed to seeing her with eyeliner and lip gloss. She walked casually, hoping that she’d find only Muggles about. After all, every single Death Eater stationed in London would be at Thompson Manor tonight.

She crossed the street and hailed a taxi, finding a Muggle cabbie who looked incredibly tired. She had just enough Muggle money to get to the Leaky Cauldron, hoping she would find someone that could help her there. She hadn’t enough time to really think this through, but she knew that she’d need more money than what she had (Muggle currency, at least) to get to Ottery St. Catchpole. There was no way she’d be able to get into Grimmauld Place without Apparating on the doorstep, and she highly doubted that anyone who might be inside would look out into the street and let her in. If she got to the Burrow first…

The cabbie let out a cough that startled her, and she inched back in the seat, trying not to act suspicious. “Leaky Cauldron Pub an’ Inn?” he asked, ruffling his beard. “Yeh sure?”

“Yes,” said Kit smoothly.

“Don’ be going to try an’ drink there. Barman’ll see yer youn’ face an’ kick yeh out.”

Crap. The barman. Kit hadn’t thought ahead. Tom would recognize her, maybe, and he could call her father if it meant getting money. Times were difficult, these days.

“Er— actually, you’re right,” she said calmly. “How much to get me to Devon?”

“More than yeh gave me. Haven’ got money?”

“I er— I do have the money, just not in the same currency.”

He looked at her in the rearview mirror. “Yer from Russia, or sum?”

“No,” she replied. “Um… I think maybe just take me as far as the money will go, and I’ll find my way from there.”

“Sure, miss? Not safe fer yeh to be ou’ by yerself at nigh’.”

“I’ll be fine. Just, please— as close to Devon as this money gets me.”

The man just shrugged and began to drive. Kit rubbed her hands nervously. There had to be someone that she could find on the street that could help— some wizard that wouldn’t freak out.

The car stopped not very long after she got in, but significantly closer to Devon to at least let her get a break from flying. “Here yeh are, miss.”

“Thank you so much,” she said as she got out, hiding her broom behind her back. The cabbie waved and drove off, and she darted into another nearby alley, but within instants, she’d been yanked back and shoved against the wall.

“Money, lady,” sneered a low voice behind a covered face. Kit felt her body go rigid, but she immediately dove her hand into her pocket and extracted the sack of Galleons she had. “Here, take it!” she squeaked. 

The man snatched the bag away from her and examined it. “The bloody hell type of coins are these?” he snapped.

“F-Foreign!” she lied, squeezing her eyes shut. “It’s money nevertheless— please— let me go.”

He did, and she watched him run off with the sack down the next street. Brushing her hair out of her face, Kit trembled and quickly mounted her broom, kicking off and soaring into the sky, flying as fast as she could in the direction of Ottery St. Catchpole. She knew it would take awhile, and her fingers might freeze from the altitude, but she couldn’t remain on the ground much longer.

It felt like hours before she touched down near where she knew the Burrow would be. She couldn’t see it, but she landed, her hands not moving much, and her feet aching. She was starving and exhausted, but thankfully (by some miracle) unharmed. 

She stumbled forward, recognizing even in the darkness, the grassy area around the Weasley’s house. She moved until she hit some sort of dome, which made her grimace as it gave her a small electric shock. “Protective spells,” she muttered. “Harry must have been here…” she banged on it with her fist, and another electric shock made her recoil.

“Fuck,” she hissed, moving along the dome to try and get closer to where the actual house was. She couldn’t just yell, they might not hear her. If she hit the dome more times, it might electrocute her more each time. It was cold and she wanted to be inside, wanted to see her friends again. What were the chances they’d even let her in?

Though she was glad for her freedom, she started to cry, curling up at one edge and wishing that she was already seventeen, so that she could warm herself up with a spell or pitch a tent. She would have to wait until morning, and hope that someone would come outside. Would they even be able to see her?

She was too tired to stay awake any longer. Despite how cold she was, she did not move, and remained, in a fetal position, at the edge of the property.


	86. Chapter 86

**In the morning, they found her almost frozen.**

“ARTHUR!” Mrs. Weasley screamed when she stepped outside and saw her curled up just feet away, unmoving. 

The two had run out to her and had been able to pull her in. Cold as ice and barely responsive, they’d put her on the couch as Fred, George, and Ginny came running down from upstairs to see what the commotion was.

“Bloody fucking hell,” gasped George. “It’s Kit!”

“Didn’t they say she was dead?” said Fred as Mrs. Weasley put a warm blanket on her and Mr. Weasley began to cast several spells that would raise her body temperature.

“We never knew for certain,” said Mr. Weasley. “We just saw her being carried away, unconscious, by her father. We haven’t heard from her in nearly two months. We assumed that her father would not have kept her alive.”

“She’s still cold as ice, Arthur,” said Mrs. Weasley with a trembling voice. “Oh poor dear— she must have been out there all night!”

“Is she going to be okay, Mum?” asked Ginny, who looked quite panicked. 

“She’ll be alright, Ginny,” promised Mr. Weasley as he did another series of spells. “Merlin’s beard— the others aren’t here to see.”

“We don’t even know where they are,” said Ginny miserably. “Or if they’re alright…”

“Where has she been this entire time?” asked Fred as Kit shivered, some color returning to her face. 

Mr. Weasley shook his head. “I have no idea. Thompson Manor, I’d predict. Since the Ministry fell, they stopped sending lookouts.”

Kit let out a loud gasp as she awoke, still trembling like mad as Mrs. Weasley draped the warm blanket tightly around her. 

Ginny started to cry, and before Kit could react to what was happening, the girl had pushed her into a bone-crushing hug. “I’m so sorry,” she said, apparently having been wracked with guilt at how she’d left things between them. “I’m so sorry, Kit—”

Kit weakly pat her back, and looked up at the other Weasleys, who seemed to think that the right thing to do was engulf her in a hug to warm her up more. Kit let out a soft squeak, feeling crushed as the Weasley twins made a point to try and crack her back.

“What happened?” said Mr. Weasley when they pulled away. “What’s been going on?”

Kit was now seated with a steaming mug of tea in her hands. “They took me to Thompson Manor,” she stated. “I wasn’t harmed at first… they wanted me to give information and to help my sister.” She winced. “I was… marked, though.”

They backed away a fraction of an inch, but she pretended not to notice. “What’s wrong with your sister?” said Mr. Weasley immediately. 

“She’s pregnant,” said Kit. “With the Dark Lord’s child.”

Mrs. Weasley clapped her hands over her mouth and the twins and Ginny made a face of disgust. “So far, they only wanted me there for that— to tend to her because of what I knew about the subject.”

“You said you weren’t harmed at first,” said Mr. Weasley slowly. “What happened?”

Kit swallowed thickly. “At the end of July, the Death Eaters were mobilizing to intercept you all when you removed Harry from the Dursley home. I tried to send a Patronus to Alastor so that you wouldn’t end up moving him. My father and Rabastan Lestrange did not react well.”

They were silent, and George cleared his throat, gesturing to where he was missing an ear. Kit gasped, not having noticed it earlier. “Oh God, George,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry…”

“Not your fault, Kit,” he said. “But um… you know that Alastor is…?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes. They… brought his head and had me open the bag containing it, in front of everyone.”

“Sweet Merlin,” whispered Mrs. Weasley, turning away.

“How did you get away?” asked Ginny.

“Draco and his mother helped me. I got mugged on the way but not caught, which is good.”

“What happened to Malfoy?” asked Fred immediately. “We— we heard he was supposed to kill Dumbledore but Snape did it instead.”

“I took the mark so he wouldn’t get hurt. The Dark Lord was being unnaturally lenient with both of us to make sure I took good care of Alana and his heir. Even when Draco killed Rabastan, he didn’t punish him severely. But he has to fight, now.”

“Malfoy killed him?” said Ginny. “Isn’t— isn’t Rabastan your sister’s husband?”

“Yes. But he… was going to hurt me and Draco reacted fast enough to save me.”

The five were momentarily silent, just watching Kit sadly. “So,” she said quietly, “what’s been happening over here?”

“Fleur and Bill got married on the first,” said Mr. Weasley. “They’re in hiding, as are Hermione, Ron, and Harry. We haven’t seen Remus and Sirius or many of the other Order members since then, but everyone except Mad-Eye is accounted for. The wedding did get raided but no one was hurt, since Harry had left by then.”

Kit grimaced. “Where are the others? Who— who’s together with who?”

“We don’t know,” said Mr. Weasley. “Su didn’t come to the wedding— her mother didn’t let her, but we believe she was trying to sneak over anyway. We don’t know if she made it. As far as Hermione told us, Blaise has been staying with his mother, but that’s subject to change.”

“They’ll likely search the Zabini house because of me,” said Kit, cursing internally. “What about Remus and Sirius?”

“We suspect that Ron, Hermione, and Harry are with one or the other. Not sure which. What we do know is that Remus and Tonks haven’t left their home much, now that she’s expecting.”

Kit felt her eyes watering a bit. “I did hear they got married,” she said quietly. “She’s pregnant?”

“Yep,” answered George. “We joked that Bill and Fleur are next but they’re not willing to try if the kid would be born in this time. Too dangerous.”

Kit let out a small, shaky breath. “Alright. Well— the Death Eaters infiltrated the Ministry, but that part you know. The fires and Apparition networks are being monitored, just like the owls. I was made to demonstrate to the Death Eaters how to use the Order Patronus communication method, but none of them can produce a Patronus, so I don’t think we need to fear that they’ll intercept it, unless they figure out a way to track who makes them. I still haven’t turned seventeen so I haven’t been able to do any magic.”

Mr. Weasley scratched his chin, thinking. “Well, this home and Grimmauld Place alike have jinxes on them to keep Apparition from occurring inside, or in the exterior vicinity. However, that only applies to wizards, and not house elves. But if they are at Grimmauld Place… Sirius can command Kreacher to come and get you. That way, we can know if they are there, and you can get to them. I don’t know what they plan to do, but they are doing work for Dumbledore, and as much as it worries me, I don’t think that I can do anything to stop it. Therefore, we should likely send you off to them.”

“Arthur, the mirror!” said Mrs. Weasley suddenly, leaping to her feet and running off into the kitchen before returning with a small mirror that Kit recognized— Sirius had gifted one to Harry so that he could contact him. “They should have the other one— Ron and Harry left this for us if we needed to contact them— I remembered!”

“Perfect, Molly,” said Mr. Weasley proudly. “This will save us from the risk of the Patronus being intercepted.” He took the mirror from her and held it up. “Sirius Black, Grimmauld Place!”

The mirror immediately showed the roof of a room— Sirius must have left it facing the ceiling. The pattern made Kit realize it’d been laying in the kitchen. “Sirius!” Mr. Weasley called sharply. “Sirius!”

There was a scuffling noise— someone had definitely heard it. It was Hermione that picked it up, and her eyes were wide. “Mr. Weasley!” she cried. “Oh dear— we thought the mirror wasn’t working— we could only see darkness when we tried to reach you.”

“We had put it away,” said Mrs. Weasley sheepishly from behind him. “It’s so good to know you’re alright!”

Hermione beamed, and waved over to someone they couldn't see. More footsteps, and Hermione passed the mirror to Ron. “Dad!” he cried. “Mum! What’s going on?”

“Kit is here,” said Mr. Weasley. “Is Sirius there? He can send Kreacher to pick her up. She should be with you.”

Ron nodded. “Oi, Sirius! Tell Kreacher to go to the Burrow and get Kit!”

“Kit?” came Sirius’s voice. It made Kit tear up, hearing him for the first time in almost a half a year. She was glad to know he was safe.

There was a crack, and Kreacher appeared beside them. Silently, he extended his hand toward Kit.

“Thank you so much,” she said to the Weasleys, downing her tea quickly. “I really appreciate it.”

“Keep them safe, will you?” said Mrs. Weasley eagerly. “Don’t let them act too rashly…”

“I promise, I will,” she said before taking Kreacher’s hand.

In an instant, they were standing in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Sirius was there, with Hermione, Ron, Harry, and to Kit’s surprise, Su and Blaise, who looked a bit bruised but otherwise alright.

“Oh my God,” said Blaise, running to her and pulling her into his arms. “You’re alive… you’re alive…” Hermione joined the hug next, then Sirius, but the others lingered behind. 

“What the hell happened to you?” said Su when they disconnected, looking at Kit as if she wasn’t sure whether to hug her or slap her. “You had us worried sick!”

“So worried sick that you lot ignored me for two months?” said Kit out of habit as Sirius came to stand in front of her, covering her view of the others. He put his hands on her shoulders.

“We are so glad that you’re safe,” he said sincerely, beaming at her. “There… has been a lot that I’ve learned in the past weeks about my brother, Regulus. He was a Death Eater and I didn’t know the truth about how he died. Not that you need to be forgiven, but… I forgive you, Kit. All that matters is that you’re okay.”

This made Kit’s eyes well up with tears, and she put her head in his chest, hugging him tightly, and letting out the softest of sobs. “I-I’m so g-glad you’re not d-dead,” she whimpered. “A-Alastor is…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “I’m right here. The whole lot of us may not know exactly what we’re doing, but we’re going to try. And if you’re willing to help us, it will be better.”

“W-Where’s Remus?” said Kit. “A-And Tonks?”

“They’re alright, they’re with Tonks’s parents. He just um… well, he’s not going to come with us. Long story short, Harry and I didn’t take too kindly to the fact that he was willing to abandon his unborn kid so that he could join us. The group is big enough already.”

Kit pulled away and looked up at him. “I figured out how Alana’s curse works, Sirius. I just— just need to make she spell so that we can free her.”

His eyes lit up. “Really? You— you’ve seen her?”

Now was the time to explain. They’d all sat, and it had been a terrible hour that Kit had gone into detail and answered all their questions, telling them the truth about everything except the fact that Dumbledore and Snape had been in on the fact that she and Draco had to try and kill him. She did not give them room to make any comments. Unless they were asking for clarification or more details, she did not stop speaking.

They were quiet when she finished.

“I feel like a fucking bitch,” said Su bluntly. “I… I didn’t think that Draco was forced to do it. I just assumed he was in it willingly…”

“I will not excuse the fact that he’s been a bloody arse to all of you in the past,” said Kit. “But I swear to you— neither of us intended to hurt anyone. We thought we were keeping each other safe, and we couldn’t tell you. He’s protected me and helped me figure out what’s wrong with Alana. I’m not loyal to the Death Eaters just because I have a mark. I don’t want the Dark Lord to rise above. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

Su caught her off guard by jumping forward and hugging her tightly. Kit could feel her body shaking— she was crying. “I’m so fucking sorry, Kit… I just… I’m sorry… there isn’t a proper justification. We thought you were dead….”

“We’re glad you’re okay,” said Ron from behind her. “Seriously. You don’t deserve any of that type of pain. For the record, I’m not mad about the poison. I know that wasn’t your fault… not yours or Malfoy’s.”

“I’m sorry, too,” said Harry grimly. “I deserved that punch.”

Kit let out a soft laugh. Though there was clearly still some tension amidst the group, she knew that they wanted to trust her again, and that was a start. After all, she fully intended to help them, and if in doing so, she could prove herself, then so be it. 

The next three days proved to be full of information for Kit.

She’d learned about how they’d escaped from Bill and Fleur’s wedding and arrived here, finding Sirius, who had not gone since he had not thought it safe without a disguise. Since then, Death Eaters often lurked outside Grimmauld Place in the square, not able to see number 12, but looking at the division between number 11 and 13, as if expecting to see something.

“And the Death Eaters found you without you going outside?” said Kit curiously. “I don’t know why… I don’t think they’d have told me how they’re doing it. I know my father is heavily controlling the Ministry now, along with Yaxley, so perhaps they’ve managed a way of tracking Apparition anywhere around this vicinity…”

They relayed to her what they'd been doing the entire past month. Su and Blaise had arrived a week ago, when Su had managed to get away from her mother’s house and get to Zabini Manor, where Blaise had managed to send a patronus to Hermione, without a message. She had arrived and had brought the two to Grimmauld Place, both beat up because they’d been paid a visit by Death Eaters on the day Su arrived, since they were trying to get Blaise to join them. Harriet had been the one to kill them, and after Blaise and Su had left, Harriet fled to America where Andrea and Nehemiah kept her well hidden. As far as anyone knew, the Zabinis were gone.

“Mum’s definitely not happy at all,” Su had said a bit dejectedly. “She probably had a right tantrum when she found out I left. She was insisting I had no business coming over, but I couldn’t just stay there and let everyone else do the fighting. I don’t know what Dumbledore wanted Harry to do, but I thought he could use all the help he could get.”

Horcruxes turned out to be the thing. They’d been learning in the past weeks, from Kreacher, about how Regulus Black had made a fake Horcrux and had entrusted the real one to Kreacher before his death in the cave that Harry and Dumbledore had been in. Chills went down Kit’s spine hearing his story about the poison and the Inferi. The problem was that while the Order had been fighting at the Ministry, Mundungus Fletcher had taken advantage of the empty house and come in to loot some things to sell. He’d taken the locket of Salazar Slytherin, which was the Horcrux, as well as other Black family heirlooms that he could fetch a pretty penny for. 

As it turned out, however, Harry had given Kreacher the fake locket that belonged to Regulus. Since learning the truth, Sirius had become considerably kinder to Kreacher, who in turn, was no longer spouting off about ‘Mudbloods.’ He was as kind as Dobby, and grateful that Sirius was still alive to remind him of his brother, who he appreciated dearly.

“Alana must have known,” said Sirius quietly the evening before Kit’s birthday after the others had been explaining how they had been trying to get into the Ministry of Magic to retrieve the real Horcrux. “She must have known that they were going to drag Regulus into it. They were friends, I suppose, though she always cared more for me. They didn’t despise each other. I just… I never knew.”

“I’m going to get her back to you, Sirius, I promise,” said Kit. “I’m going to figure out the spell to fix her. By any luck, it can have some positive effects on the pregnancy too. Rabastan is out of the picture. When she’s all good, she will come back. She’ll see you again, and you two can be together.”

Sirius offered her a smile, and reached over to ruffle her hair. “She’s blessed to have a sister like you, Kit. One who cares so much and has done the impossible to try and heal her. I have every faith you’re going to save her.”

“I promise I will,” said Kit. “On my dying breath.”

He shook his head. “Don’t say things like that or you’ll make them come true. I believe in you, Kit. You’ve got the six of us to help you. Even though we’re going to be Horcrux hunting, we will still do what we can to help. We have to rely on each other.”

They were silent for a bit. “So, how are you and Draco?” said Sirius. “Sounds like he’s been really good to you these past months.”

“He’s perfect, Sirius,” sighed Kit. “He killed someone for me, which is a weird thing to flaunt about but… he really does care. He’s been there for me and kept me from losing my bloody mind. I love him.”

Sirius wiggled his eyebrows. “Did you tell him that?”

“Of course I did.”

“Did he say it back?”

“Yep. Multiple times.”

“Have you two—?”

Kit blushed and shook her head. “Not fully. Especially not after what Rabastan tried to do. But he’s patient— no pressure or anything.”

Sirius smiled at this. “He’s a good lad, Kit. Even though I can’t say I know him well, I can say that my words are honest. In another reality, I’d have been his crazy uncle.” He then paused. “Wait a minute, are you the only one in this bloody house— besides Kreacher, obviously— who hasn’t shagged anyone?”

“Sirius!” she hissed. But then, she paused. “Wait. You mean—?”

“Mhm.”

“Hermione and Blaise?”

“Oh, definitely. Had a certain glow about them the morning after he arrived.”

“And Harry—?”

“With Ginny? I wouldn’t doubt it. Don’t tell Ron, though.”

“Well, Ron and Su did it ages ago. Wow. I really am the only one. Funny thing, because they thought I was the first one.”

Sirius snorted. “Jokes on all of you, I lost mine before all of you were born.”

“To who?”

“Good fucking question.”

“Not Alana—?”

“Nah, we weren’t that close when we I got frisky for the first time.”

“And she—?”

“To me.”

“Wow.”

Obviously, there had been a lot that Kit had needed to catch up on. But it made her happy that her friends had progressed so much. Their relationships looked stable, and she expected that when all of this was over, they would end up together. She would love to see that. 

The morning of her birthday, she’d come downstairs to a cake that’d been made for her by Hermione and Su. Her friends greeted her with hugs, and though there were no gifts, Kit was very glad that she had finally turned seventeen.

“Bloody hell, took me long enough,” she huffed when Ron mentioned that she could finally do magic. “Why did I have to be the baby of the group?”

“Blame yourself,” said Blaise with a playful grin. “Should have been born earlier.”

“It’s not like I could control that,” huffed Kit.

“You could’ve. Hermione and I chose to be born in September of ‘79.”

“Your parents just shagged between eight and ten months before that!”

“But we chose to be born in September, few days apart. Ron, Su, and Harry chose to be born in March, April, and July, respectively.”

Kit rolled her eyes. “Well, if there was a brochure for us to choose our birthdays, I would have asked to be born in June like Draco.”

“You’re all complaining, but none of you are as old as me,” said Sirius bluntly. “Personally, I’m a bit offended that I haven’t been acknowledged—”

They burst out laughing. “It’s Kit’s birthday!” chided Hermione. “Yours will come soon— November, isn’t it?”

“I’ll pretend that you got it right—”

“It is in November!” insisted Hermione. “I am not wrong about birthdays—”

But they were all cut off by the arrival of a Patronus. It was a rather strange sight, especially for Kit, because she had not recalled conjuring one of her own. The brown bear in the kitchen doorway looked exactly like hers.

“Who the bloody hell sent that?” said Ron, craning his neck over to see it as it opened it’s mouth.

“All is well here,” came Draco’s voice. “My memories are back, and I miss you loads. Happy birthday, Kit Kat. I love you. Hope you are safe.”

They were quiet as it dissolved.


	87. Chapter 87

**Kit went to bed with a smile on her face.**

Draco had produced a Patronus. A Patronus to match hers. 

Her friends had been rather astonished when it had disappeared. As far as they knew, Kit was the only Death Eater who could cast a Patronus. Now, Draco was the second, none knowing that Snape was the true first. 

She had woken up on the first of September missing him, but feeling grateful that all was well. Perhaps, this was a good sign. A small ray of hope that shone onto the group and let them know that things would be okay. 

The six were meant to go to King’s Cross Station to attend their seventh year at Hogwarts. Out in the square, half a dozen Death Eaters awaited to see if they would show face. Some, like Rookwood, Yaxley, and Dolohov, were familiar to Kit. Others, she didn’t recall seeing before. They must have been at the Manor the night she escaped.

“Well, this is lovely,” said Sirius as they ate breakfast. Hermione and Blaise were in a quiet conversation at the far end of the table. Kit sat nearer to Sirius, both quite hungry. Off to the side, Su and Ron were also speaking, but the former kept glancing over at the other Ravenclaw.

Kit felt saddened by the fact that Su was hardly acknowledging her. So many years of friendship couldn’t account for any fragment of trust. And yet, some part of her did, in fact, understand. Su could not erase the memory of meeting her father’s killer. She could not forget that that same man was an associate of Kit’s father. She couldn’t disregard that Kit had gotten marked as a Death Eater, even if it was to protect the man she loved. To Su, it was all so volatile that she feared Kit’s motives. It was stupid and cruel to treat her best friend as such, but in a time of war, she felt she needed to be wary.

Kit distracted herself by peering around at the kitchen. Since she’d arrived, she’d noticed a great deal many differences from how it’d looked when she’d been here last summer. With Kreacher and Sirius now getting along swimmingly, things were cleaner than ever. Every surface now shone: copper pots and pans held a rosy glow, the wooden table top gleamed, the goblets and plates already laid for dinner glinted in the light from a merrily blazing fire, on which a cauldron was simmering. 

“What’s lovely?” huffed Harry, who had just entered the hall and peered into the kitchen. He’d gone out to get some supplies, and had a paper bag and a copy of _The Daily Prophet_. He didn’t look pleased. “Certainly not the news I’ve just found out.”

He slapped down the newspaper as Kreacer, dressed in a snowy-white towel, his ear hair as clean and fluffy as cotton wool, came over to him. “Shoes off, if you please, Master Harry, and hands washed before breakfast.” He took the Invisibility Cloak off of Harry and slung it on a hook on the wall, beside numerous freshly laundered robes. 

“What’s happened?” asked Ron apprehensively as he picked up the newspaper. “No bloody way!” He held it to show the others the headline, beside a large picture of a familiar, hook-nosed, greasy black-haired man. “ **SEVERUS SNAPE CONFIRMED AS HOGWARTS HEADMASTER**.”

“What?” hissed Hermione, snatching the paper from him and beginning to read the accompanying story out loud. “‘Severus Snape, long-standing Potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was today appointed Headmaster in the most important of several staffing changes at the ancient school. Following the resignation of the previous Muggle Studies teacher, Alecto Carrow will take over the post while her brother, Amycus, fills the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.’”

“The Carrows?” Kit gasped. “Oh no. They’re terrible. Horrid manners and stupid matching faces. They think they’re so high and mighty… and Burbage didn’t resign! The Dark Lord fucking killed her right in front of me!”

They were silent, and Hermione hesitantly kept reading after a few tense seconds. “‘I welcome the opportunity to uphold our finest wizarding traditions and values—’ Like comminiting murder and cutting off people’s ears, I suppose!” she said, now living. “Snape, Headmaster! Snape in Dumbledore’s study— Merlin’s pants!”

She got up and stormed out, and Blaise made a face of surprise before going after her. “Hermione—”

They could hear them very vehemently abusing Snape within minutes, which included very many vile words that Kit had never heard Hermione say.

“Blimey, she’s more annoyed than me,” said Sirius teasingly. “I’d have thought I’d react most poorly to Snivellus being granted the Headmaster position.”

“The other Professors won’t dare stand for this,” said Su hotly. “All the Heads of House know the truth about how Dumbledore died. Snape as Headmaster— that’s a right ruddy joke. And…” she seemed hesitant to address Kit directly. “What can you tell us about the Carrows?”

“Well, they’re Death Eaters— brother and sister,” she said, peering into the newspaper. “That’s them, there, on those pictures inside.”

“They were at the top of the Tower when Snape killed Dumbledore,” muttered Harry. “So it’s all friends together.”

“I’m more surprised that my father wasn’t chosen to teach something,” said Kit. “He’d love to infiltrate Hogwarts, but the Dark Lord is still mad at him. Plus, Thicknesse, and all…”

“This is ridiculous,” Harry muttered. “The teachers won’t even have a choice but to stay. If the Ministry and voldemort are behind Snape, it’ll be a choice between staying and teaching, or a nice few years in Azkaban— and that’s if they’re lucky. I reckon they’ll stay to try and protect the students.”

Kreacher came bustling in with more plates of eggs, specifically for Ron, Sirius, and Harry who usually got seconds. “Thanks, Kreacher,” said Harry, flipping the Prophet so as to not have to look at Snape’s face. “Well, at least we know exactly where Snape is, now.”

“I still don’t understand why he’s Headmaster,” huffed Kit. “I thought I had a lot of good information, but I suppose I didn’t.”

“Not your fault,” said Sirius pointedly. “You’ve done the Order a lot of good with what you’ve told us so far. Snivellus just got lucky. S’pose it’s strange, though, considering that now he can’t teach Defense anymore.”

“I found that weird, too,” said Su. “He fought so hard for the job and just accepted being Headmaster, not getting to teach.”

Kit wanted to scream, _‘he probably planned this out with Dumbledore!’_

“There are still a load of Death Eaters watching the house,” Harry announced. “More than usual. It’s like they’re hoping we’ll march out carrying our school trunks and head off for the Hogwarts Express.”

“It’s weird not being on it, isn’t it?” said Ron, peering up at the cloak. Since they’d woken up late, it was already past eleven, meaning the train would have left already.

“I fear for Ginny, Neville, and Luna,” said Su solemnly. “As for Terry and Anthony… I dunno if they went back.”

She glanced at Kit, who purposely looked away. She was in no mood to tolerate Su’s stares that came without words. Especially not a better ruddy apology. Kit may be stubborn but she didn’t really think she should be the one apologizing. Su was the one who’d abandoned their friendship. 

Hermione and Blaise promptly returned, both carrying the large, framed picture that Kit had seen in the hallway. They lowered it to the floor before Hermione went to seize her small, beaded bag from the kitchen dresser. Impressed with her Extension Charm, Kit watched the entire painting disappear into the tiny bag. 

“Phineas Nigellus,” said Hermione as she and Blaise sat. Blaise tossed the little bag onto the kitchen table with a clanking crash. 

“Pardon?” said Sirius.

“Snape could send Phineas Nigellus to look inside the house for him,” Hermione explained, since his other portrait was currently in the Headmaster’s office at Hogwarts. “But let him try now, all Phineas Nigellus will be able to see is the inside of my handbag.”

Sirius whistled. “Smart. What’s the plan for today, in terms of Ministry observation?”

“I’m going to do it today,” offered Harry. “Seven hours once I finish eating. Need to try and catch a glimpse of Umbridge.”

“Well, you might not see her,” said Ron. “Dad always told us most Ministry people use the Floo Network to get to work. She’d never walk, she’d think she’s too important.”

“They don’t walk unless they have business in alleyways,” Kit recalled. “My father did the walking from a taxi thing a few times to catch Ministry workers off guard and get them under his mind control.”

“Let’s hope we don’t run into him, ever,” said Blaise. “Are we still tailing all the same people? The funny old witch, that married couple and other man with navy robes—”

“Oh, yeah, the three from Magical Maintenance,” Ron mused.

“How do you know they work for Magical Maintenance?” inquired Su. 

“Dad said everyone from Magical Maintenance wears navy blue robes.”

“You never told us that!” said Hermione, suddenly looking aghast, taking out some of her notes and peering through them. “There’s nothing in here about navy blue robes, nothing!”

Su frowned. “Does it really matter, Hermione? As long as we can all find someone to turn into to get in—”

“Of course it all matters! If we’re going to get into the Ministry and not give ourselves away when they’re bound to be on the lookout for intruders, every little detail matters! We’ve been over and over this, I mean, what’s the point of all these reconnaissance trips if you aren’t even bothering to tell us—”

Ron made a face. “Blimey, Hermione, I forget one little thing—”

“Okay,” said Blaise loudly. “Let’s just run over what we have. Kit and Ron have had their dads working in the Ministry, they can let me know if we’re missing anything. Like we said, the funny old witch—”

“That one’s mine,” said Hermione immediately. “I’ve got her all covered.”

Blaise nodded. “The couple from magical maintenance and the other man who also works with them— that’ll be Ron, Su, and me, so that we can stick together. We have that one wizard, that’ll be Harry. And the other witch we were observing, that can be Kit.”

Kit turned to Sirius, her eyebrows furrowed. “You’re not participating?”

“Not likely,” sighed Sirius.

“It’s too risky,” said Harry. “It’s better Sirius stays and helps the Order. The six of us can manage, there’s a lot of us and we will be fine.” He faced his godfather. “I don’t want you getting hurt. You can help just by finding out everything else about Regulus that might come in handy. Help Remus, and take care of Tonks, and check in at the Burrow.”

It dawned on Kit that this was one of the first times that Sirius actually seemed keen on following instructions. One, he really would be more beneficial sticking to the tasks that Harry had outlined. Two, there was less of a chance running into Alana, who he likely wouldn’t want to see when she was pregnant with Voldemort’s child.

“You can help out with Alana’s case, too,” said Kit kindly, making him perk up. “Any updates about her, you tell me. Even when we’re off hunting Horcruxes, I will be doing research on her and developing the countercurse. The smallest information you can find will help. Plus, Remus, Kingsley, and Mr. Weasley may need you, and we trust you with that.”

Sirius offered her a smile as Harry sat up. “I think we should do this Ministry thing tomorrow,” he stated bluntly.

“Tomorrow?” said Su incredulously. “Are you sure? Blaise and I haven’t been here that long and Kit’s been here even less. Will we be ready?”

“Yes, we will be,” he said confidently. “I don’t think we’re going to be much better prepared than we are now even if we skulk around the Ministry entrance for another month. The longer we put it off, the further away that locket could be. There’s already a good chance Umbridge has chucked it away; the thing doesn’t open.”

“Unless,” mused Blaise, “she found a way of opening it and she’s possessed or something. Maybe even, she could have handed it to the Dark Lord.”

“No way,” said Kit. “Umbridge is downright evil but she’s no Death Eater, and if that’s the real Horcrux, it won’t open with any magic she knows.”

“Exactly,” said Harry. “We can’t put this off much longer. We know everything important. We know they’ve stopped Apparition in and out of the Ministry. We know only the most senior Ministry members are allowed to connect their homes to the Floo Network now, because Ron heard those two Unspeakables complaining about it the other day. And we know roughly where Umbridge’s office is, because of what you heard that bearded bloke saying to his mate—”

“‘I’ll be up on Level One, Dolores wants to see me,’” Hermione recited immediately. 

Harry nodded. “We also know you get in using those funny coins, or tokens, or whatever they are, because I saw that witch borrowing one from her friend—”

“We haven’t got those,” said Su.

“But if the plan works, we will have them.”

“I don’t know, Harry, I don’t know… things can go wrong, and we’re all on the Death Eaters’ most wanted list, especially Kit…”

Kit glared up at Su. “You needn’t worry about me,” she said a bit sharply. “I think we ought to go along with what Harry says. From what you’ve told me, you’ve spent four weeks taking turns with the Invisibility Cloak spying at the official Ministry entrance, eavesdropping and taking notes. We all have a person to turn into, it seems, so we ought to do it tomorrow.”

“We can’t all go!” said Ron. “Su’s supposed to be in another country with her family, Hermione’s on the list of Muggleborns who didn’t present themselves for interrogation, Kit’s a runaway Death Eater—”

“And you’re supposedly at the Burrow with spattergroit,” Blaise noted. “And I should be at my sister’s home near Ilvermorny. Harry’s got a ten thousand Galleon price on his head—”

“Fine, I’ll stay here,” said Harry. “Let me know if you ever defeat Voldemort, won't you?”

They all burst out laughing, but Sirius reeled them back in. “Everyone’s life is on the line but you’ve got each other. Just make sure to trust each other. I suggest you all get a good therapy session or something in tonight so that you can ensure there won’t be any problems.”

“We’d all have to Disapparate separately,” Blaise noted. “There’s no way we all fit under the cloak. Kit, Ron, and Harry don’t have their licenses, so I suppose Side-Along Apparition could be favorable but—”

Harry abruptly stood up. “I’ll be back in a minute— er— bathroom.”

Hermione cast him a suspicious look as Blaise continued, all of them hearing Harry’s receding footsteps. “Anyway, as I was saying, we maybe could do well with casting some Disillusionment Charms or other Illusion Spells— anyone know good ones?”

But no one had a chance to answer, because there was suddenly the sound of loud yelling from the bathroom. Sirius was the first on his feet, sprinting toward where Harry was. “HARRY! HARRY!”

The others followed behind as Sirius kicked open the door when Harry didn’t answer, finding him on the floor, holding his head. He yanked him up, and Harry immediately looked around wildly.

“Your scar was hurting!” Hermione said hotly, not glad that he’d hidden that from them. 

Harry decided not to lie. “Fine. I’ve just seen Voldemort murdering a woman. By now, he’s probably killed her whole family. And he didn’t need to. It was Cedric all over again, they were just there…”

A brief silence ensued.

“Harry,” said Hermione, “you aren’t supposed to let this happen anymore. Dumbledore wanted you to use Occlumency! He thought the connection was dangerous— Voldemort can use it, Harry! What good is it to watch him kill and torture, how can it help?”

“Because it means I know what he’s doing!” retorted Harry.

“So you’re not even going to try and shut him out?”

“Hermione, I can’t! You know I’m lousy at Occlumency, I never got the hang of it.”

“I can teach you,” Kit piped up. “Alastor taught me, and Draco and I practiced to make sure the Dark Lord couldn’t get in our heads. We can get you to push him out—”

Harry shook his head. “Listen, it’s lousy, and I hate it— I hate the fact he can get inside me, that I have to watch him when he’s most dangerous. But I’m going to use it. It could be an advantage.”

“Harry,” said Sirius in a bit of a hard voice. “Dumbledore—”

“Forget Dumbledore. This is my choice, nobody else’s. I want to know why he’s after Gregorovitch.”

They all faltered at this. “Who?”

“He’s a foreign wandmaker,” said Harry. “He made Krum’s wand and Krum reckons he’s brilliant.”

“But according to you,” said Ron. “Voldemort’s got Ollivander locked up somewhere.”

“What?” said Kit sharply. “What— you didn’t tell me that!”

“I just saw snippets, really, but Voldemort’s got Ollivander,” said Harry quickly.

Kit smacked herself on the forehead. “He’s at bloody Thompson Manor! That’s who the prisoner was! Stupid Pettigrew was meant to tend to him. It’s the wands, Harry. They don’t work all that well when you fight against each other— the Dark Lord took my sister’s wand that night they helped you escape the Dursleys. It didn’t work, and now he has Lucius Malfoy’s wand. He’s looking for Gregorovitch to figure out why that’s happening! Ollivander must not have known!”

Sirius rubbed his forehead. “Do you think it's really important for him to learn more about this Gregorovitch?"

Kit shrugged. "It's not my place to say, but he is right, it's kind of useful that he's seeing this. If he wants to be stubborn and keep suffering..."

Fine, alright," sighed Sirius, "if Harry wants to keep the visions, then it’s up to him, but Harry, you know we will all intervene if you end up on the ground like that again. If you lot are really going to the Ministry tomorrow, how about you go through the plan. No going to spy today. Tonight, you can talk like normal young adults, so you can set everything straight. Then, you go through with it.”

They did exactly as he told them to. For the rest of that day until bedtime, they went through the plan, refining details with Kit and Ron’s input about the Ministry. It was late by the time they finished, and Sirius had already gone to bed, as he was not going, and needed his rest.

Su had approached Kit before she went to her room.

“Hi,” she said softly.

Kit looked up at her. “Er… hello.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, looking her in the eyes. “I really am sorry. I’m scared, Kit. And that’s no excuse for my behavior, but it’s getting to me. I can’t help but think that next thing, I’ll find out my mother is dead or that Ron lost one of his family members. I admit I… I haven’t been so warm because I was suspicious that you’ve been under your father’s mind control.”

Kit frowned. “I haven’t. So you needn’t be paranoid. I’ll drop my defenses if you want to look through my mind. I don’t want the Dark Lord to win. I don’t want to lose anyone I love. I’m going to help you all. But I will not lose Draco. I will not let him get hurt. He isn’t a bad person. He doesn’t deserve to suffer the way he is. I want to be able to love all of you and love him, without judgement.” 

“I don’t judge you. I have no place to criticize your relationship, I know that. And I really am sorry that I’ve been hostile about it. I’m terrified he’ll get you hurt because you’re so devoted to protecting him. I am terrified that… that your father is going to find you and kill you. I’m so scared of losing you Kit and like an idiot, I’ve pushed you away so that if it happens, it won’t hurt so bad. The odds are against you and I just can’t bear the thought of you not being around.”

She started to tear up. “These months that you weren’t around, I lied to myself pretending I was fine with it, but I wasn’t. I made a horrendous mistake pushing you away in the first place. I should have listened to you, I should have tried to understand. You are so loyal and it’s your fatal flaw. You’re like the sister I never had, Kit, and you don’t know how much I appreciate you. You helped me become friends with Ron. You helped protect me at the Ministry. You’ve always supported my ambitions. You helped me study for all the exams I thought I was too stupid to pass. I should have never turned away from you and I will spend every day of the rest of my life regretting that I pushed you away. I don’t want to live without you, Kit. I-I’m just so glad that y-you’re back…”

Kit pulled her into a hug right as she finished.


	88. Chapter 88

**Sirius made them a hefty breakfast for the day.**

Unfortunately, they couldn’t sit and enjoy it. They ate quickly as Hermione bustled about making sure they had everything they needed in her beaded bag. 

“You’ll do just fine,” said Sirius confidently when they made their way to the door, each partnered up. Su would Disapparate with Ron, Hermione with Harry, and Blaise with Kit. “Just trust each other. Send a Patronus if anything goes wrong.”

They thanked him and left quickly, going into the tiny alleyway where they’d catch the Ministry workers they’d be impersonating that day. 

“Right then,” said Hermione, checking her watch. “She ought to be here in about five minutes. When I’ve Stunned her—”

“Hermione, we know,” said Ron sternly. “And I thought we were supposed to open the door before she got here?”

Hermione squealed, and Blaise patted her shoulder before opening the padlocked door behind them, which led into an empty theatre. “Don’t worry, love, I got it. Now, I did the Extension Charm on the Cloak, so we should be able to fit under it, if we squeeze in.”

They did just that, and thankfully, a little more than a minute later, there was a tiny pop, and the first witch appeared. Hermione’s silent Stunning Spell hit her in the chest and toppled over. Blaise darted forward and picked her up, dragging her behind the theater door, plucking a few of the woman’s hairs out before passing them to Hermione, who added them to the first of six flasks of Polyjuice Potion. 

“Mafalda Hopkirk,” read Blaise from the identifying card on the witch. “Here, your tokens.”

Hermione took a handful of small golden coins, all embossed with the letters M.O.M. She downed her flask and put on Mafalda’s spectacles, now appearing as her double. They all darted back out, everyone but Hermione ducking back under the Invisibility Cloak as their next victim appeared. 

“Oh, hello, Mafalda,” said a ferrety looking wizard. 

“Hello,” said Hermione in a quavery voice. “How are you today?”

“Not so good, actually,” replied the man, looking thoroughly downcast. 

“I’m sorry to hear you’re under the weather,” Hermione told him solemnly. “Here, have a sweet.”

“Eh? Oh, no thanks—”

“I insist!” said Hermione aggressively, shaking the bag of pastilles in his face. Looking rather alarmed, the wizard took one of the Puking Pastilles. Just as it touched his tongue, he started vomiting so hard, he didn’t notice Hermione yanked a handful of hairs from the top of his head. “Oh dear! Perhaps you’d better take the day off!”

“No— no!” he choked and retched. “I must— today— must go—”

“But that’s just silly!” said Hermione, alarmed. “You can’t go to work in this state— I think you ought to go to St. Mungo’s and get them to sort you out!”

The wizard had collapsed, heaving, on all fours, still trying to crawl towards the main street. “You simply can’t go to work like this!” cried Hermione. He gave in, and forced himself to stand before turning on the spot and vanishing.

“Should have just Stunned him,” said Blaise, going forward with his flask for her to put the hairs in it. He downed the potion and ducked into the theater, emerging in the navy blue robes to be Reg Cattermole’s double. “Oi, isn’t it strange he wasn’t wearing these today? Seeing how much he wanted to go.”

“I don’t know why,” Hermione admitted. “Your turn next, Kit.”

Kit decided Stunning was easiest, and besides, it felt nice to do magic now that she was seventeen. Just as Blaise and Hermione moved behind one of the walls, a pop was heard, and a witch about Kit’s height materialized, looking quite rushed. Silently, Kit stunned her, and caught her body, though it nearly sent them both toppling down. Blaise rushed forward and helped her pick the woman up, moving her into the theater. Kit tore off the woman’s robes as Hermione followed and added the woman’s hairs to Kit’s flask. Kit put on the robes just before drinking the potion. 

“Marjorie Buchanan,” said Kit, peering down at her robes. “I think she works with Runcorn— Harry’s guy.”

“Perfect,” said Hermione as the three, now transformed, got back just as the couple who worked in Magical Maintenance arrived. Two Stunning spells later, Ron, Harry, and Su came to carry the bodies into the theater.

“Cadmus and Rolanda Spudmore,” recited Su as she and Ron got dressed. “Er— I feel bad taking their wedding rings.”

“Come here, then,” said Kit, taking a quick look at the rings and taking Su and Ron’s hands once they transformed, making an illusion of the same rings on their fingers.

“Smart,” said Ron, observing his clothes. “We saw them holding hands when they arrived, so at least, that’s nothing bad. We get to stick with Blaise.”

“Just my guy left, then?” said Harry, checking his watch.

And ten minutes later, he was the last to turn, into a man called Albert Runcorn. 

“Take the tokens, come on,” said Hermione, distributing Mafalda’s tokens. “It’s nearly nine.”

Once each had taken a token, they stepped out of the alleyway in unison. Fifty yards along the crowded pavement, there were spiked black railings flanking two flights of steps, one labelled Gentlemen, the other, Ladies.

“See you all in a moment, then,” said Hermione as she, Su, and Kit tottered off down the steps into an ordinary underground public toilet.

Each of them took a different stall, and as they’d learned, stepped into the toilet water (this, miraculously, didn’t dampen their shoes) and flushed, zooming down a short chute and emerging out of a fireplace into the Ministry of Magic.

The Atrium was darker than Kit remembered it, and that was considering that they’d come in the evening to the Ministry that fateful day. Instead of the golden fountain that filled the center of the hall while casting shimmering spots of light over the polished wooden floors and walls, there was a gigantic black stone statue of a witch and wizard sitting on ornately carved thrones, looking down at the Ministry workers. Engraved at the base of the statue were the words: MAGIC IS MIGHT.

“Disgusting,” huffed Kit under her breath. A nearby witch heard her and let out a small squeak. “A-Apologies, Marjorie!” said the woman fearfully before speeding away.

“Blimey, they’re scared of you,” said Su as they met back with the boys. Ron immediately took Kit’s hand, and Blaise stood on the other side of them, closer to Hermione. Kit remained by Harry, since Runcorn and Buchanan worked together.

“Is it just me, or are our people… intimidating?” whispered Harry.

“I get that feeling, yes,” said Kit quietly. 

“That statue is terrible,” hissed Hermione from beside them. “Have you seen what they’re sitting on?”

Looking more closely, it became clear that the thrones were made of actual mounds of carved humans— hundreds and hundreds of naked bodies, men, women, and children with rather stupid, ugly faces, twisted and pressed together to support the weight of the handsomely robed wizards.

“Muggles,” Hermione muttered. “In their rightful place. Come on, let’s get going…”

The group joined the stream of witches and wizards moving towards the golden gates at the end of the hall, looking around as surreptitiously as possible, but there was no sign of the distinctive figure of Dolores Umbridge. They passed through the gates and into a smaller hall, where queues were forming in front of twenty golden grilles housing as many lifts. They had barely joined the nearest one when a voice said, “Cattermole!”

Kit turned and her stomach flipped. Yaxley was making his way over to them, beckoning to Blaise, who had thankfully remembering his new name for the time being.

“Yaxley,” he huffed, recognizing him.

“I requested somebody from Magical Maintenance to sort out my office, Cattermole,” said Yaxley in a hard voice. “It’s still raining in there.”

Blaise threw out a statement on the fly. “Apologies, Yaxley, yesterday was quite a busy day, but I swear that I will get on it right now— the Spudmores will join me to make it a top priority.”

Yaxley’s lips curled into an almost evil smile. “Good. Now, I’m on my way downstairs to interrogate your wife, Cattermole, and I find that I’m surprised you’re not down there holding her hand while she waits. Already given her up as a bad job, have you? Probably wise. Be sure and marry a pure-blood next time.”

Blaise turned rigid, and Yaxley continued. “If my wife were accused of being a Mudblood— not that any woman I married would ever be mistaken for such filth— and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement needed a job doing, I would make that my priority, as you outlined. Therefore, for your sake, I hope my office isn’t raining within an hour.”

“All understood, sir,” said Blaise, visibly gritting his teeth as Yaxley moved off. Hermione immediately gripped his arm. “Calm down,” she whispered urgently. “Calm… calm…”

But it was clear that Yaxley’s words had made Blaise furious. He muttered curses under his breath. “I’ll fucking show him,” he sneered. “I’ll hex him once for every letter in that foul word—” he turned to Hermione. “If anyone dares to ever threaten you like that, I swear, I will murder them.”

Hermione gave a meek nod, though it was clear she was trying not to get flustered. “F-Focus,” she said softly as the golden grille before them clattered open. They stepped inside and no one followed them in. The grilles shut with a clang and the lift began to move upwards.

“We’re getting Cattermole’s wife out,” said Blaise decidedly. “At some point. If we can, we’re getting all the Muggleborns to safety. There is no bloody way we can just let them be treated like that.”

“As long as we stick together,” said Harry. “But we don’t have much time.”

“We’ll put a rush on stopping the rain,” said Su quickly as the lift juddered to a halt. A disembodied female voice said, “Level Four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office and Pest Advisory Bureau.” The grilles slid open again, admitting a couple of wizards and several pale violet paper aeroplanes that fluttered around the lamp in the ceiling of the lift.

“Morning Albert,” said a bushily whiskered man, smiling at Harry, then at Kit. “Marjorie.” he leaned closer to the two of them, and muttered, “Dirk Cresswell, eh? From Goblin Liaison? Nice one, Albert. I’m pretty confident I’ll get his job, now!” He winked, and Kit gave him a wry smile.

“Best of luck to you,” she stated as the lift stopped once more. 

“Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters and Wizengamot Administration Services.”

Hermione beckoned the three impersonating Magical Maintenance workers to get off there, going quickly as the golden door closed. Another fast movement— “Level One, Minister for Magic and Support Staff.”

The golden grilles slid apart again and Hermione gasped. Four people stood before them, two of them deep in conversation: a long-haired wizard wearing magnificent robes of black and gold and a squat, toad-like witch wearing a velvet bow in her short hair and clutching a clipboard to her chest.

“Ah, Mafalda!” said Umbridge, looking at Hermione. “Travers sent you, did he?”

Kit was glad that Su hadn’t been there for that. “Y-Yes,” squeaked Hermione.

“Good, you’ll do perfectly well.” Umbridge spoke to the wizard in black and gold. “That’s that problem solved, Minister, if Mafalda can be spared for record-keeping we shall be able to start straight away.” She consulted her clipboard. “Ten people today and one of them, the wife of a Ministry employee! Tut, tut... even here, in the heart of the Ministry!”

She stepped into the lift beside Hermione, as did the two wizards who had been listening to Umbridge’s conversation with the Minister. “We’ll go straight down, Mafalda, you’ll find everything you need in the courtroom. Good morning, Albert and Marjorie, aren’t you getting out?”

“Yes, of course,” said Harry in Runcorn’s deep voice, tugging Kit with him. They stepped out of the grilles and glanced back at Hermione’s anxious face before the new Minister for Magic looked over at them.

“What brings you two here?” said Thicknesse, his long, black hair and beard streaked with silver, and a great overhanging forehead shadowing his glinting eyes.

Harry hesitated only for a fraction of a second. “Needed a quick word with Arthur Weasley. Someone said he was up on Level One.”

“Ah,” said Thicknesse. “Has he been caught having contact with an Undesirable?”

“Nothing like that,” said Kit immediately. “Other business.”

“Ah, well. It’s only a matter of time,” said Thicknesse. “If you ask me, the blood traitors are as bad as the Mudbloods. Good day, Runcorn. Good day, Marjorie.”

“Good day, Minister,” they chimed. They’d only taken a few steps when Kit stopped Harry, digging her nails into his arm.

“Wait,” she said, peering back at Thicknesse, who was now conversing with someone else. “I think my father used the same version of mind control on him that he did with my mother. I have the spell to undo that. It could be a setback for the Death Eater control of the Ministry.”

“Brilliant,” said Harry. “Do it, quickly, I’ll cover for you.”

Kit didn’t hesitate to lift her wand, peeking it under Harry’s arm as they pretended to chat. Murmuring the words very softly, it took about ten seconds for the full spell to go into play.

When it was done, Kit casually pulled Harry along. Harry peered back to see what was happening. “He looks disoriented… he’s clutching his head… and oh, he fainted.”

“Good,” said Kit. “That way, no one will suspect much. By the time he wakes up… he can maybe set things right.”

They ducked into an empty hallway just afterward and Harry threw the Invisibility Cloak over them. Harry was forced to stoop down to Kit’s levels, since Runcorn was taller than he naturally was. They moved quickly along doors, looking for Umbridge’s office, and hoping that the others were doing well wherever they were. 

“This place is super quiet,” whispered Kit as they passed onto a corridor with purple carpets. “Must be here…”

They came across a wide room where dozens of witches and wizards sat in rows at small desks, waving their wands in unison, causing squares of colored paper to fly all over like pink kites. There was a rhythm to the proceedings— the papers all formed the same pattern. They were creating some sort of pamphlets.

They crept closer and examined the pink cover beside a young witch— _MUDBLOODS and the Dangers They Pose to a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society_. Beneath the title was a picture of a red rose, with a simpering face in the middle of its petals, being strangled by a green weed with fangs and a scowl. There was no author’s name upon the pamphlet, but it seemed that both Harry and Kit’s hands were tingling. Who else but Umbridge?

“Will the old hag be interrogating Mudbloods all day, does anyone know?” asked the young witch aloud. 

“Careful,” said the wizard beside her, glancing around nervously; one of his pages slipped and fell to the floor.

“What, has she got magic ears as well as an eye, now?” The witch glanced towards the shining mahogany door facing the space full of pamphlet-makers.

The sight made Kit’s blood boil, and were it not for Harry covering her mouth, she would have lashed out.

Where there might have been a peephole on a Muggle front door, a large, round eye with a bright blue iris had been set into the wood; an eye that was shockingly familiar to anybody who had known Alastor Moody.

Harry and it strode forward to examine the eye. It was not moving: it gazed blindly upwards, frozen. The plaque beneath it read: _Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister_. Below that, a slightly shinier new plaque read: _Head of the Muggle-born Registration Commission_. 

Harry crouched down at this and placed one of the Decoy Detonators on the ground so that the pamphlet-makers wouldn’t see the door open. It scuttled away at once through the legs of the witches and wizards in front of him. A few moments later, there came a loud bang and a great deal of acrid, black smoke billowed from a corner. The young witch in the front row shrieked: pink pages flew everywhere as she and her fellows jumped up, looking around for the source of the commotion. Harry turned the doorknob, stepped into Umbridge’s office as Kit closed the door behind him, scooting in with him.

“Oh good Lord,” said Kit. “This is just like her office at Hogwarts. I might vomit.”

“Hold it in so you can do it right on her face,” said Harry coldly, peering down at the back of his hand, the both of them still remembering the first day she had forced them to write with those terrible blood quills. 

Kit turned back to the door. Behind Alastor’s eye, a telescopic attachment enabled Umbridge to spy on the workers on the other side of the door. Kit took a look through it and saw that they were all still gathered round the Decoy Detonator. She wrenched the telescope out of the door, leaving a hole behind, pulled the magical eyeball out of it and placed it in her pocket, feeling a small sense of peace.

“ _Accio locket,"_ said Harry behind her. "Well, that didn’t work, she definitely put spells on it.”

They rummaged in every space they could find, speeding around the room. Harry stopped Kit when he reached into a filing cabinet. “Look,” he said. “She has a file on Mr. Weasley.”

Kit went to his side and looked into it. “Arthur Weasley,” she read. “Pureblood, but with unacceptable pro-Muggle leanings? What the fuck? Known member of the Order of the Phoenix… Wife— Pureblood— seven children, two youngest at Hogwarts. Youngest son currently at home, seriously ill, Ministry inspectors have confirmed. Security Status— Tracked. All movements are being monitored. Strong likelihood Undesirable Number One will contact (has stayed with Weasley family previously). Seriously, what the hell.”

“Undesirable Number One,” Harry muttered as he looked up at a poster of himself on the wall with the words ‘UNDESIRABLE NO.1’ emblazoned across his chest. A little pink note was stuck to it, with a picture of a kitten in the corner. Harry moved across to read it and saw that Umbridge had written ‘To be punished.’

That got them both more angry than they already were, they looked further into the room, trying not to leave it too disheveled, but both stopped seeing a copy of Dumbledore’s biography— the one Kit had heard was written by Rita Skeeter. Harry picked it up and started to look through it, examining a picture of what appeared to be a very young Albus Dumbledore with another man that Kit didn't recognize.

Suddenly, in a flash, Kit had thrown the Invisibility Cloak over them as the office door opened. A Ministry worker came in and waved his wand over Umbridge’s ink pot, causing her quill to spring out and scribble a note on a nearby slip of pink parchment. He left right after, and Harry slipped something from the biography into his pocket, then pulled Kit out the open door. 

“Let’s get back,” whispered Harry as they made their way to the lift they’d come from, ready to go to the courtroom and find Hermione, passing the pamphlet-makers who were marveling at the incident with the Decoy Detonator.

The lift was empty when it arrived, and rattled to a halt at Level Two, revealing Ron, Su, and Blaise, still disguised, and soaking wet.

“Oh, thank Merlin it’s you two,” said Su, but before anything else could be relayed, Blaise looked around nervously. “Where’s Hermione?”

_Not meant to be suspenseful, just part one of the Ministry._


	89. Chapter 89

**“She had to go down to the courtrooms with Umbridge,” Kit answered. “She couldn’t refuse.”**

“Oh, thank God,” said Blaise immediately, looking as though this had eased quite a bit of his anxiety. 

The doors opened again, and none other than Mr. Weasley stepped in with an elderly witch. “... I quite understand what you’re saying, Wakanda, but I’m afraid I cannot be party to—”

He noticed Harry and Kit, and glared at them, which was strange to both since they had never known Mr. Weasley to dislike them. Obviously, Albert Runcorn and Marjorie Buchanan were absolutely terrible people, considering so many seemed to either respect or fear them. 

“Oh, hello, Reg,” said Mr. Weasley to Ron. “Isn’t your wife in for questioning today? Er— what’s happened to the three of you— Cadmus and Rolanda?”

“Yaxley’s office was raining,” said Su. “Took us awhile, but Meteolojinx Recanto worked.”

“Splendid, that worked for Bletchley,” said Mr. Weasley, smiling at her. 

When the doors opened again, the old witch left, and was replaced by Percy Weasley, who had his nose buried in some papers he was reading. Not until the doors had clanged shut again did Percy realise he was in a lift with his father. He glanced up, saw Mr. Weasley, turned radish red, and left the lift the moment the doors opened again. 

“Runcorn, Buchanan,” said Mr. Weasley, turning to them when Percy was gone, and ignoring the other three. “I hear you laid information about Dirk Cresswell.”

Obviously, he was mad. Harry chose this moment to act stupid. “Sorry?”

“Don’t pretend,” said Mr. Weasley fiercely. “You tracked down the wizard who faked his family tree, didn’t you?”

“So what if we did?” said Kit, knowing they couldn’t act out of character, or they’d be caught.

“So, Dirk Cresswell is ten times the wizard you both are, put together,” said Mr Weasley quietly, as the lift sank ever lower. “And if he survives Azkaban, you’ll have to answer to him, not to mention his wife, his sons and his friends—”

“Arthur,” Harry interrupted, “you know you’re being tracked, don’t you?”

“Is that a threat, Runcorn?” said Mr Weasley loudly.

“No!” said Kit. “It’s a fact, and we may be terrible people, but we thought you ought to know that Dolores has a file on you. So I suggest you comport yourself with care.”

When the lift opened at the Atrium, Ron, Su, and Blaise poured out, followed by Harry and Kit, whom Mr. Weasley shot a scathing look to. 

“Fuck,” said Kit when the lift doors shut. “That felt terrible.”

“Remind us to use you whenever we need someone to play the villain,” said Su playfully to try and ease the tension. “It was good of you both to warn him. Even if he thinks you’re other people, it was a civil thing to do.”

“Hurry,” said Blaise, ignoring their chat. “We have to go find Hermione and the Muggleborns.”

They stepped out into a torchlit stone passageway quite different from the wood-panelled and carpeted corridors above. Subconsciously, they all looked towards the distant black door that marked the entrance to the Department of Mysteries.

“Well, that brings back terrible memories,” mumbled Kit under her breath as they dove down a flight of stairs toward the court chambers, following Harry because he knew the way. 

“Let’s hope it’s not out of place for us to be there,” said Su, biting her lip. “Blaise— you should comfort Cattermole’s wife, you’ll know her when you see her, considering she’ll probably look up at you like a God when you walk in.”

“If anything, we can say you two are for moral support,” said Blaise, nodding to her and Ron. “Harry and Kit— let’s hope you’re important enough in the Ministry for Umbridge to not kick you out.”

“Honestly, I’m betting on the fact that she’ll want spectators to watch Muggleborns suffer,” muttered Kit, shivering slightly, a chill creeping over her as they descended into fog. It was getting colder the more they descended.

Harry was the first to realize why this was. “Dementors,” he muttered, the five of them tuning into the sense of despair and hopelessness that flooded the air. 

And as they reached the foot of the stairs and turned to their right, they found he was right. The dark passage outside the courtrooms was packed with tall, black hooded figures, their faces completely hidden, their ragged breathing the only sound in the place. The petrified Muggleborns brought in for questioning sat huddled and shivering on hard wooden benches. Most of them were hiding their faces in their hands, perhaps in an instinctive attempt to shield themselves from the Dementors’ greedy mouths. Some were accompanied by families, others sat alone. The Dementors were gliding up and down in front of them, and the cold, and the hopelessness, and the despair of the place laid themselves upon the group like a curse…

“Don’t let it get to you,” Ron said, though he looked worried. “We can’t risk doing Patronuses in here— especially not you, Harry.”

They tried to walk casually forward, ignoring the numbing feeling that was settling into their brains. Kit was having to fight back a lot of negative emotions that were creeping up. Alastor’s magical eye bounced in her pocket and made her wand to cry.

Moving through the towering, black figures was terrifying: the eyeless faces hidden beneath their hoods turned as they passed, and they surely sensed that all were young, with some hope still embedded into them. 

Abruptly, one of the dungeon doors on the left of the corridor was flung open, and screams echoed out of it. 

“No, no, I’m half-blood, I’m half-blood, I tell you! My father was a wizard, he was, look him up, Arkie Alderton, he’s a well-known broomstick designer, look him up, I tell you— get your hands off me, get your hands off—”

“This is your final warning,” said Umbridge’s soft voice, magically magnified so that it sounded clearly over the man’s desperate screams. “If you struggle, you will be subjected to the Dementor’s kiss.”

The man’s screams subsided, but dry sobs echoed through the corridor.

“Take him away,” said Umbridge.

Two Dementors appeared in the doorway of the courtroom, their rotting, scabbed hands clutching the upper arms of a wizard who appeared to be fainting. They glided away down the corridor with him and the darkness they trailed behind them swallowed him from sight.

“Next— Mary Cattermole,” called Umbridge.

Blaise lunged forward immediately to reach the small woman who’d stood up, trembling head to toe. Though he did not say anything, he squeezed her hand, and she cast him an appreciative look.

“We’ll wait out here,” said Su, tugging Ron to her side. “We can keep guard.”

“Good idea,” said Kit as she and Harry slipped in behind them.

There were even more Dementors in the room than outside of it, making it so cold that Kit shivered involuntarily. Umbridge was seated on a platform with Yaxley and Hermione. At the foot of the platform, a bright silver long-haired cat prowled up and down, meant to protect the prosecutors from succumbing to the despair caused by the Dementors. It was a Patronus, no doubt belonging to Umbridge.

“Sit down,” said Umbridge in her soft, silky voice as Harry and Kit moved to sit on the side. She didn’t seem to mind that they were there, clearly believing they were actually Runcorn and Buchanan. 

Mrs. Cattermole stumbled to the single seat in the middle of the floor beneath the raised platform. The moment she had sat down, chains clinked out of the arms of the chair and bound her there. Blaise stood protectively behind her, hands on her shoulders to comfort her, casting a look to Hermione, who was beaming at him, thankfully not being seen by Umbridge or Yaxley.

“You are Mary Elizabeth Cattermole?” asked Umbridge.

Mrs. Cattermole gave a single, shaky nod.

“Married to Reginald Cattermole of the Magical Maintenance Department?” 

Mrs. Cattermole nodded once more, still shaking. 

“Mother to Maisie, Ellie and Alfred Cattermole?”

Mrs. Cattermole let out a soft whimper. “They’re frightened, they think I might not come home—”

“Spare us,” spat Yaxley. “The brats of Mudbloods do not stir our sympathies.”

“A wand was taken from you upon your arrival at the Ministry today, Mrs Cattermole,” Umbridge said. “Eight and three-quarter inches, cherry, unicorn hair core. Do you recognise that description?”

Mrs. Cattermole nodded, mopping her eyes on her sleeve. Blaise gave her a reassuring pat. 

“Could you please tell us from which witch or wizard you took that wand?”

“T-Took?” said Mrs. Cattermole. “I didn’t t-take it from anybody. I b-bought it when I was eleven years old. It— it _chose_ me.”

Umbridge laughed a soft, girlish laugh that made Kit want to attack her. She leaned forwards over the barrier, the better to observe her victim, and something gold swung forwards too, and dangled over the void: the locket.

Both Harry and Kit tensed at this, looking at each other out of their peripheral vision. 

“No,” said Umbridge, “no, I don’t think so, Mrs. Cattermole. Wands only choose witches or wizards. You are not a witch. I have your responses to the questionnaire that was sent to you here— Mafalda, pass them to me.”

Umbridge held out a small hand toward Hermione, whose hands were shaking with shock. She fumbled in a pile of documents balanced on the chair beside her, finally withdrawing a wad of parchment with Mrs. Cattermole’s name on it.

“That’s— that’s pretty, Dolores,” she said, pointing at the pendant gleaming in the ruffled folds of Umbridge’s blouse.

“What?” snapped Umbridge, glancing down. “Oh, yes— an old family heirloom.” She patted the locket lying on her large bosom. “The ‘S’ stands for Selwyn… I am related to the Selwyns… indeed, there are a few Pureblood families to whom I am not related… a pity…” she peered over the questionnaire and looked back up at Mrs. Cattermole, “the same cannot be said for you. Parents’ professions: greengrocers.” 

Yaxley laughed jeeringly. Below, the fluffy silver cat patrolled up and down, and the Dementors stood waiting in the corners.

Harry snapped at this, clearly not being able to tolerate the lies. He, after all, had been made to write repeatedly, ‘ _I must not tell lies_ ,’ while Kit had been forced to write, _‘I must hold my tongue_.’ 

The man beside her leapt up. _“Stupefy!”_

There was a flash of red light; Umbridge crumpled and her forehead hit the edge of the balustrade: Mrs. Cattermole’s papers slid off her lap onto the floor and, down below, the prowling silver cat vanished. Ice-cold air hit them like an oncoming wind: Yaxley, confused, looked around for the source of the trouble just as Kit fired her own Stunning Spell at him, causing him to slide onto the ground and curl up on the floor.

“Harry!” hissed Hermione. “Kit!”

The Dementors had moved toward Mrs. Cattermole, seeing that there was no longer a Patronus in the room. Immediately, Hermione, Blaise, Harry, and Kit all reacted, and all (except Harry) nonverbally brought out their patronuses.

The silver stag, the two swimming otters, and the gigantic lumbering brown bear soared too the Dementors, melting them into dark shadows. The stag’s light was the brightest, and Hermione took the opportunity to snatch the Horcrux right off of Umbridge’s neck.

“What’s going on?” said Mrs. Cattermole, panicking, and looking at Harry and Kit. “But— but Reg— you said they were the ones who submitted my name for questioning.”

“Long story short, we're not who you think we are,” said Blaise as he spelled the chains off of the woman. “But we’re going to get you to safety.”

“I-I don’t understand,” she said fearfully.”

He pulled her to her feet. “Just come on. Trust us. You’re going to leave here with us, go home, grab your children, and get out— get out of the country if you’ve got to. Disguise yourselves and run. You won’t get a fair hearing here.”

The doors opened behind them as Ron and Su heard the commotion. Blaise, Hermione, Harry, and Kit turned their wands to the door, sending their Patronuses out into the hallway. Ron and Su followed suit, both Patronuses still shapeless but powerful, and with a very similar shape, though not exactly the same— it appeared to be a male and female pair of some animal— perhaps wolves or dogs.

The six Patronuses glided out of the dungeon, causing cries of shock to echo from the Muggleborns who’d been waiting outside. All around them, the Dementors were falling back on both sides at an incredibly rapid and impressive space. They melted into darkness as the six animals tore through them, causing the room not to feel so cold. 

“‘It’s been decided that you should all go home and go into hiding with your families,” Harry announced to the waiting Muggleborns, who were dazzled by the light of the Patronuses, and still cowering slightly. “Go abroad if you can. Just get well away from the Ministry. That’s the— er— new official position. Now, if you’ll just follow the Patronuses, you’ll be able to leave from the Atrium.”

They managed to get up the stone steps without being intercepted, but things were still up in the air. If they emerged into the Atrium with a silver stag, two otters, two dogs, and a brown bear followed by twenty or so people, half of them accused Muggle-borns, it would attract unwanted attention. 

“If we’re trapped here—” Hermione began reproachfully.

“We won’t be if we move fast!” said Kit, turning to the group behind them. “Who’s got wands?”

About half of them raised their hands.

“Good enough! Anyone who hasn’t got a wand— attach yourself to someone who has. We need to move fast before they can stop us.”

They managed to cram themselves into two lifts. The six Patronuses stood sentinel before the golden grilles as they shut and the lifts began to rise.

“Level Eight,” said the witch’s cool voice, “Atrium.”

The Atrium was full of people moving from fireplace to fireplace, sealing them off, and there was no way they’d keep attention away from themselves for long.

“Harry!” squeaked Su, clutching onto Ron tightly. “What are we going to—?”

“STOP!” Harry thundered, and the powerful voice of Runcorn echoed through the Atrium: the wizards sealing the fireplaces froze. “Follow me,” he whispered to the group of terrified Muggle-borns, who moved forwards in a huddle, shepherded by Ron, Su, Hermione, and Blaise, who had all ceased shining their Patronuses.

“What’s up, Albert?” said a same balding wizard nervously. 

“This lot need to leave before you seal the exits,” said Harry. 

The group of wizards in front of him looked at one another. “We’ve been told to seal all exits and not let anyone—”

“Don’t contradict us!” snarled Kit with such ferocity that several flinched. “Would you like Runcorn and I to have your family trees examined like Dirk Cresswell’s?”

“Sorry!” gasped the balding wizard, backing away. “I didn’t mean nothing, but I thought... I thought they were in for questioning and…”

“They’ve been cleared, dimwit!” Kit hissed. “Their blood is pure— likely purer than any of us here! So piss off!” She turned to the Muggleborns. “Go on! Get the bloody hell out of here!”

They didn’t hesitate, all scurrying towards the fireplaces and vanishing in pairs. The Ministry wizards hung back, some looking confused, others scared and resentful. Then— 

“Mary!”

Mrs. Cattermole looked over her shoulder. The real Reg Cattermole, no longer vomiting, but pale and wan, had just come running out of a lift. “R-Reg?”

Blaise pushed her towards him. “Go! GO!”

She didn’t hesitate, and sprinted toward him, vanishing through one of the fireplaces. 

“SEAL THE EXIT!” Someone roared behind them. “SEAL IT!”

Yaxley had burst out of another lift and was running towards the group beside the fireplaces into which all of the Muggleborns had now vanished. As the balding wizard lifted his wand, Harry punched him, sending him flying through the air.

“He’s been helping Muggleborns escape, Yaxley!” Harry shouted.

This caused greater confusion, but it also tuned Yaxley into the fact that something was wrong, and a terrible inkling of truth dawned onto his brutish face. 

Blaise yanked Hermione into the fireplace without waiting for the others. Ron followed with Su, and Harry and Kit leapt in as Yaxley flung himself toward them, landing out in a cubicle and bursting to the sinks.

“LET’S GO!” Ron bellowed, the lot of them as they burst out. Kit fired a hex over her shoulder, missing Yaxley because Harry had tugged her and almost made her fall, but it didn’t matter, because the wall beside him burst open.

Blaise grasped onto Ron’s hand, and Su grabbed Kit’s, while Harry went full circle with Hermione, who seemed to be in charge of Apparating them away. She turned on the spot and darkness engulfed them, but something was wrong, and it seemed they were separating… 

Kit suddenly let out a croak, feeling as though she was going to suffocate. She briefly saw the door of number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, with its serpent doorknocker, and could hear Sirius had said something inside, like he heard them arrive, but there was a pained scream, a flash of purple light, and the whole world seemed to spin.

They landed with a painful crunch onto what seemed to be leaves and twigs. Kit struggled to breathe, letting out a hoarse croak as she lay flat on her back, her vision blurred as she saw green and brown all over, a streaming canopy of leaves far above her head. 

“RON!” screamed Su suddenly, forcing Kit to sit up as she saw that both Ron and Blaise were not looking too good. Blaise was clutching his head, which was bleeding— he’d hit a rock when he landed and he looked highly disoriented. Ron’s entire arm was drenched in blood, and his face was pale. “Hermione— what happened to him?!”

“He got splinched!” Hermione said, eyes wide as Kit lunged forward and tore open Ron’s shirt, where a great chunk of flesh was missing, scooped away cleanly as though by a knife. 

“Shit!” said Kit. “Alright— alright— Hermione, I need you to do exactly what I say— lay Blaise’s head and shoulders very gently on your lap, and use a clean piece of clothing to put some pressure on the bleeding— I have to tend to Ron first.”

She grabbed at the small beaded bag and opened it. “Accio Dittany!” A small brown bottle zoomed out of the bag as Ron’s eyes began to roll back. Harry clapped his hand over Su’s mouth as she started to sob, not wanting her to make too much noise. Kit turned Ron onto his side as he passed out, and unstoppered the dittany, pouring three drops onto his wound. Greenish smoke billowed upwards to stop the bleeding, though the wound now looked several days old; new skin stretched over what’d just been open flesh.

“Did you pack a Blood-Replenishing Potion in there, by any chance?” asked Kit as she examined the wound.

“N-No,” said Hermione, pressing a cloth onto Blaise’s head, and waving her hand over his eyes to keep him awake. He wasn’t speaking, but he seemed fairly alright, just dazed.

Kit cursed loudly. “Okay. I’ll just have to do some spells.”

“A-Are you sure?” said Su, her speech muffled behind Harry’s hand. “I-Is it s-safe? I-Isn’t he too f-fragile?”

“Believe it or not, I studied quite a bit about injuries this past year, so trust me, I think it should be fine.”

She put her wand gently on the wood. “ _Vulnera Sanentur_ ,” she chanted softly. “ _Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur_ …” She breathed a sigh of relief as Ron’s face became a bit less pale. “ _Sanguis Impleo… Sanguis Impleo… Consano Cicatrix_ …”

Su let out a soft sob of relief as Ron’s arm began to heal properly. “He’s going to need some water, please get some down his throat and put a cold rag on his head,” she said, moving Ron to lay on Su’s lap as Harry released her. Kit came over to Blaise, seeing he looked calm.

“Just feel… a little dizzy,” he murmured. “Moved… too fast.”

“You idiot,” said Hermione between tears. “You got hit because you tried to shield me.”

“He’ll be fine,” said Kit. “If he’s got any serious bleeding inside, this should help… _Vulnera Sanentur… Sano Mens_ …”

Hermione helped Blaise sit up slowly, and he closed his eyes, gathering his breaths. “Feels better,” he said, still sounding weak. “Need… sleep.”

“Not yet,” Kit told him sternly. “Not until you eat and walk around a bit. Hermione might have to help you.” She looked around at the group. “Everyone else is fine?”

They nodded.

"We got lucky you already learned so much about Healing," said Hermione softly.

Kit blushed. "Just a few things, here and there. My specialty, obviously, is fetal and maternal Healing so if anyone gets pregnant..."

Su and Hermione both let out nervous laughs at this, but they seemed grateful nevertheless.

“What happened?” asked Harry urgently when the laughter stopped. 

Hermione whimpered. “When we Disapparated, Yaxley got a hold of me, and I couldn’t get rid of him— he was too strong, and he was still holding on when we arrived at Grimmauld Place, and then— well, I think he must have seen the door, and thought we were stopping there, so he slackened his grip and I managed to shake him off and I brought us here instead!”

“But then, where’s he? Hang on… you don’t mean he’s at Grimmauld Place? He can’t get in there— can he?”

Hermione swallowed hard. “I-I think he can. I-I forced him to let go with a Revulsion Jinx, but I’d already taken him inside the Fidelius Charm’s protection. Since Dumbledore died, we’re Secret Keepers, so I’ve given him the secret, haven’t I?”

“I heard Sirius inside,” murmured Kit. “Between him and Kreacher— they can take him. But they won’t be able to stay there. Sirius will have to find a new Secret Keeper to make the house safe again. Thankfully, he can stay with Remus, Tonks, and her parents, but…”

But they could not go back to Grimmauld Place.

_Happy 1,000 pages! This is officially the second longest story I've written. Not A Flower is at 1,092... and considering how much of this we have left, it will likely beat it. Thanks for reading :)_


	90. Chapter 90

**When things had calmed down, Kit reached into her pocket.**

She felt for Alastor’s eye, and was relieved when she found it was still there. She didn’t get to tell the others about it, because at that moment, Ron opened his eyes. 

“Ron!” cried Su when he groaned. “How are you feeling?”

“Lousy,” he croaked. “Tired. But not much pain… where are we?”

“In the woods where they held the Quidditch World Cup,” said Hermione. “I wanted somewhere enclosed, undercover, and this was—”

“—the first place you thought of,” Harry finished for her, glancing around at the apparently deserted glade. 

Kit couldn’t imagine how long ago it’d been since then. That day, she and Draco hadn’t yet been close again, but they had bonded over their love of Quidditch. The thought made her smile.

“D’you reckon we should move on?” Blaise said, looking around.

“Let’s stay here for now,” Harry said. “You two need to rest.”

“I can put some protective enchantments around the place,” offered Kit. “Someone should set up the tent. Hermione— Su— the boys will need your help moving so keep them still for now.”

She got up and began to walk around the surrounding vicinity, remembering the majority of the charms that Hermione had told her about awhile back. “ _Salvio hexia… Protego totalum… Repello Muggletum… Muffliato_ …”

Harry was in charge of extracting the lumpy mass of canvas, rope, and poles from the bag. Hermione pointed her wand at it. “ _Erecto!_ ” It sprang up, fully constructed. 

At this, Ron let out a soft laugh, and Su smacked him lightly on the arm that hadn’t been injured. “What?” he said innocently. “I’m dying here, don’t smack me…”

“You dirty-minded git,” she giggled lightly before ruffling his hair. 

Hermione and Su both started to help Ron and Blaise up. Kit and Harry moved forward to help, carrying them inside and setting them down comfortably. Kit stuck her wand outside. “ _Cave Inimicum_.”

“That’s all that can be done so far,” said Hermione, patting Kit on the back. “At the very least, we should know they’re coming. I can’t guarantee it will keep out Vol—”

“Don’t say the name!” Ron cut across her harshly. “It feels like a jinx. Trust me on this, okay? Can we call him You-Know-Who or the Dark Lord, or something?”

“That’s a good idea,” said Kit before Harry could protest. “I don’t know how they found you last time, but I know the Death Eaters hate people who say that name. If anything, I’m betting they really did jinx it somehow, since that kind of behavior was encouraged by Dumbledore within the Order of the Phoenix.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Blaise agreed. “For safety. Say— this tent is fantastic.”

“It really is, isn’t it?” said Su happily. “Kit told me about these when she came to the Quidditch Cup. I can’t believe they come with a bathroom and a kitchen. That’ll be perfect, I’ve gotten better at cooking because my mum kept me at her side all summer.”

“We’ve all got useful qualities, then,” said Ron. “Kit heals, Hermione’s got a bag of wonders, Blaise is very protective, Harry’s the Chosen One, Su is a cook, I love to eat....”

They burst out laughing at that, and Su helped him move to an old armchair once he felt he could move his legs. Hermione did the same with Blaise, putting him on the other armchair.

“I can make some tea,” Su piped up, going to the kitchen, opening Hermione’s bag and extracting a kettle and exactly six mugs.

“I hope Sirius is alright,” said Kit as Hermione went to sit beside Blaise. “And the Cattermoles…”

“They’ll be fine,” said Blaise. “Got out and all that… they’re probably all pumped with energy and won’t think to take anything but their kids with them.”

“You were rather sweet to Mrs. Cattermole,” said Hermione admirably, taking his hand. Kit, Ron, and Harry decided to tune out, and instead, listened to Su humming in the kitchen.

“Oi,” said Ron after a small moment of listening. “Are you humming a bloody Celestina Warbeck song?”

Su stopped. “I can’t help it, Ron, when I told my mum last Christmas that your mum listened to her broadcast, she started listening too, and now, it’s all that’s stuck in my head.”

“I wasn’t judging,” said Ron quickly. “Must be the— er— injury.”

Kit just knew that Su had rolled her eyes before beginning to hum again, returning with their teacups, which they drank quickly. When Hermione downed her cup, she pulled out the locket, large as a chicken’s egg with the letter ‘S’ inlaid with many small green stones, glinting dully in the diffused light shining through the tent’s canvas roof.

“I would never wear such a wretched thing,” Kit said, scrunching her nose up.

Su chuckled. “Silly, your favorite color is green!”

“Still, it’s very ugly. Plus, where does the letter ‘S’ factor into my name? Unless you could the ‘Smith’ on my mother’s side…”

“Does anyone even have any ideas on how to destroy it?” asked Blaise as he looked it over. He then flinched. “D’you hear that?”

They all became alert, but Blaise waved his hands. “Not outside. In the locket. It’s like— a palpitation.”

They each took a turn holding it, and it did indeed sound like there was a tiny metal heart in it. “Gross,” said Su. “We’ve got a piece of You-Know-Who’s soul here. Maybe we should all urinate on it, I reckon that’ll be destructive enough.”

Ron laughed loudly, but Hermione turned pink. “We are _not_ taking turns urinating on it.”

“Aw, Hermione, you spoil the fun,” said Ron. “But at any rate— what will we even do with it?”

“In the meantime, just keep it safe,” sighed Harry. “Until we work out how to destroy it. I think we should take it in turns to keep watch outside the tent. And we’ll need to think about food, as well.” He reached into Hermione’s bag and pulled out a Sneakoscope, setting it on the table.

“I reckon I ought to send Siris a Patronus, or something,” said Kit, raising her wand. Hermione stopped her.

“Not you, the brown bear might be recognizable if Death Eaters are there,” she said worriedly. “I’ll do it.” She raised her wand and silently cast the spell, waving her wand in a figure eight as she’d been taught. “All’s well, Padfoot, wishing you the best. Stay safe.” Another figure eight, and the little otter swam off.

They took turns throughout the day keeping watch, minus Blaise and Ron. It felt nice that there were so many of them there to keep each other company. There was a nice variety of magical talents and interests to keep conversations going. 

They grew hungry, and Kit accompanied Hermione out to collect some mushrooms, tempted to catch a nearby bird or squirrel, but feeling too sad to go through with killing it for their meal.

“What we needed to pack was some type of seasoning,” said Su, wincing when they came back with nothing but a big batch of mushrooms. “But not to worry, my mum taught me a few spells that can help give it some flavor. Won’t be the best, but it’s something.”

And so, they ate their lumpy and fairly tasteless mushrooms, which weren’t bad as long as they didn't focus on it too much. 

When night had fallen, they’d done their best with sleeping arrangements. Blaise and Hermione had cuddled up together, as had Ron and Su, which left Kit and Harry at a respectful distance from each other.

The problem was that Harry was a terrible bunk buddy, or whatever it was called.

His scar was obviously hurting before he’d gone to sleep, and Kit hadn’t yet grown tired enough to doze off. She decided she might as well just stay awake and be unofficially on watch alongside the Sneakoscope. She could feel him twitching like he was having a nightmare, and she turned, rubbing his back a bit and hoping that would help, since it always eased Draco up whenever he was having a fit in his sleep. 

This just made him let out a yell, and he swiped his hand out, nearly hitting her right in the face. She leapt back and fell off the bed as Hermione came rushing over. “Harry! Harry!”

He woke with a start, panting, sweat all over his face. “Dream,” he said immediately, pretending nothing was wrong. “Must have dozed off, sorry.”

“I know it was your scar!” hissed Hermione. “I can tell by the look on your face! You knocked Kit to the floor!”

“No, he didn’t,” said Kit quickly. “I fell on my own.”

“I didn’t mean it to happen!” Harry replied hotly. “It was a dream! Can you control what you dream about, Hermione?”

“If you’d just let Kit teach you Occlumency—”

“He found Gregorovitch, Hermione, and I think he’s killed him, but before he killed him, he read Gregorovitch’s mind and I saw—”

“Nevermind!” said Hermione, storming back to where Blaise was, now awake, but too tired to give input.

Harry turned to Kit as if wanting her support, but she shrugged. “She’s not wrong, mate.” She pulled him out of the tent to sit where they could both keep watch, and dropped her voice to a whisper. “But since you seem so keen on discussing it, what’s the Dark Lord up to?”

Harry screwed up his eyes a bit, remembering. “He found Gregorovitch. He had him tied up, he was torturing him.”

“Kinky. Go on.”

He smirked, but became serious again. “I dunno— how’s Gregorovitch supposed to make him a new wand if he’s tied up?”

“Maybe he’s only wanting him to examine other potential wands,” mused Kit. “Not necessarily make him a new one.”

“Maybe… he wanted something from Gregorovitch, I know that for certain. He asked him to hand it over, but Gregorovitch said it had been stolen from him... and then... then… He read Gregorovitch’s mind, and I saw this young bloke perched on a window sill, and he fired a curse at Gregorovitch and jumped out of sight. He stole it, he stole whatever You-Know-Who’s after. And I... I think I’ve seen him somewhere…”

“What was he holding? Could you see?”

“No… it must’ve been something small.”

Kit bit her lip. “You don’t think… he’s trying to make another Horcrux, is he? So far, you said the diary and the ring… the locket… and a bunch of other stuff we have yet to discover.”

“Perhaps… but wouldn’t it be dangerous for him to make another one? Didn’t Hermione say he had pushed his soul to the limit already?”

“Dunno. The thing is, my father’s there to help him now. He might be able to help him somehow.”

“You reckon he would?”

“The Dark Lord is mad at him, and if he wants another Horcrux, my father can redeem himself by helping him. Still, it is dangerous.”

Harry’s eyes were shining even in the darkness. “Let’s hope he ruins himself, then.”

They kept watch through the night, since neither could sleep. Kit could see Harry’s lips moving, likely thinking to himself about what he’d seen with Gregorovitch. She didn’t disturb him, and instead, did some thinking of her own. Voldemort likely would want another Horcrux, but why then, would a wandmaker be essential?

In the morning, Harry and Kit went to nap briefly while the others began to fix up some breakfast. Kit had dozed off, but she could hear some of Blaise and Hermione’s conversation in the other room.

“Andrea’s due date should be soon,” he said quietly. “I’m glad my mum’s with her. I wonder if I’ll ever get to meet the baby.”

“Of course you will,” said Hermione reassuringly. “Tell me, what did they decide for the baby name? We can think about nice presents to get them.”

Blaise let out a sigh. “Well, they wanted to name it Nathaniel after Andrea and I’s father. But it turned out to be a girl, so they’re naming her after Nehemiah’s mother instead. Nancy Evangeline Johnson-Zabini.”

“That’s a very pretty name,” said Hermione. “And Nathaniel is a good name too. If you or Andrea have a boy in the future, that’d be a very sweet name.” 

There was a pause. “You think… if we got married… you’d want kids?”

Another brief pause. “Yes, I would. My parents don’t have their memories right now, but when I find them, I’ll remind them that their names are Edward and Jean Granger… and they can be part of our future kids’ lives.”

Kit sensed that Blaise had moved to hold her hand. “We’ll find them, and we’ll restore their memories. I promise.”

When Kit and Harry had awoken from their nap, Harry suggested they go to find some more food, if they could. Silently, they went out, and Harry stopped Kit once they were out of earshot from the others.

“You still have Mad-Eye’s eye?” he asked quietly.

She nodded and pulled it out of her pocket.

“Let’s give it a proper burial place, shall we?” he said, casting her a smile.

They found the oldest, most gnarled, and resilient-looking tree in the forest. In its shadow, Harry dug a hole, and Kit placed the eye gently inside before covering it with dirt. They took some bark off the tree and used the bare spot to carve in a cross, and the initials A.M. Kit placed her hand over the tree and let out a soft sigh. Sensing what she wanted to do, Harry casually moved away, pretending to examine the other trees.

“Hey, Alastor,” said Kit softly, keeping her eyes downcast at where the fresh dirt had been patted over the eye. “It’s been a long time since we last saw each other. You probably never got to know the truth about what happened to me.”

She lowered her voice as much as she could, but remained speaking aloud. “I am so, so sorry,” she managed weakly, feeling tears brimming in her eyelids again. “Dumbledore… he wanted me to go through with it. I would have liked to tell you, but I feared the Order would retaliate against Draco. I thought… I would lose him. And when Dumbledore said that it was fine, I guess I didn’t really give it much thought. People got hurt, and both Draco and I regret it. But I never once forgot what you did for me. You taught me so much, and you were the proper father figure I hadn’t had. I am so sorry I couldn’t make you prouder of me. I’m sorry that you died because I failed to warn you. I-I’m s-sorry t-that…”

She trailed off and shook her head, sobbing now and unable to continue. She felt that she needed to apologize so much. Alastor had probably thought her to be a traitor this entire time. 

“I love you,” she whimpered as she stood up. “Thank you for… for helping me realize my potential.”

She pressed her palm to the tree one last time, knowing that they would soon have to leave here, and that she might not find this tree so easily if she came back to visit in the future. If and when the war ended.

“I’ll see you again,” she said shakily. “I will, I promise. Whether it’s… in months when I come back to this spot… or in years when I die of old age… we’ll see each other again.”

She turned to walk back toward the tent, finding that Harry had gathered some more mushrooms, nuts, and what appeared to be some herbs. “All good?” he asked gently when she reunited with him.

“All good,” she replied as they trudged back.

Su seemed pleased with the herbs Harry had brought, and their breakfast tasted a bit better, though Ron recommended that once they moved from here, they should move closer to where they could get a bacon sandwich.

Thus, they packed everything and cleared any distinguishing marks, linking hands and apparating under Blaise and Hermione’s power to the outskirts of a small market town. They pitched the tent once more in the shelter of a small copse of trees, and Ron and Kit took charge of casting the enchantments.

The morning after the first night they spent there, finishing up the mushrooms and nuts for dinner, Su accompanied Harry out under the Invisibility Cloak to find sustenance, but they returned empty handed, explaining that there had been a very unnatural chill in the town, characteristic of Dementors.

“But you can make a brilliant Patronus!” protested Ron. “And Su can make one too.”

“It— it wasn’t working,” said Su, out of breath. She and Harry seemed to have sprinted back from town. “T-Too many out there. If Harry couldn’t manage… we’d need all of us and that’d draw unwanted attention.”

Both Harry and Su looked highly ashamed at the fact that they hadn’t been able to procure supplies, but Kit didn’t blame them. With all the misery in the air, happy thoughts would be much harder, and if they were overpowered, it’d give them away.

“It’s alright,” said Hermione gently. “We’ll figure something out.”

“So we still haven’t got any food?” said Ron loudly.

“No,” said Su sheepishly. 

Ron kicked a chair leg, and Blaise shot him a look. “What?” Ron snapped. “I’m starving! All I’ve had since I bled half to death is a couple of toadstools!”

“You go and fight your way through the Dementors, then,” said Harry sharply.

“Wait,” said Blaise, coming between them. He stepped to Harry and pulled off the locket he’d been wearing. “This— this is the culprit.”

“What do you mean?” said Ron loudly.

Harry looked up eagerly. “That feels loads better.”

“So that’s it,” said Su lightly as she sat beside her boyfriend. “You couldn’t produce a Patronus because you took your turn with the locket today. And I couldn’t cast one because I saw you couldn’t and got scared…”

Hermione pursed her lips. “Maybe we ought not wear it. We can just keep it in the tent.”

“We’re not leaving that Horcrux lying around,” Harry stated firmly. “If we lose it, if it gets stolen—”

Kit held her hands up. “Let’s just take turns more often, then, alright? No one should wear it for too long.”

“Great,” said Ron irritably, “and now we’ve sorted that out, can we please get some food?”

“We should go somewhere else to find it,” Su recommended. “If you all want me to make better food, we need to get somewhere with good sustenance available.”

In the end, they settled down for the night in a far-flung field belonging to a lonely farm, courtesy of Su who had visited there once with her cousins. She and Kit snuck into the farm and took some eggs and bread, which Su made into delicious sandwiches.

“Did you leave money under the chicken coop?” asked Hermione worriedly. “Otherwise, it’s stealing!”

“The bread was just there in the open,” said Kit awkwardly. “And Su put her hand under the chickens’ bums to get the eggs. Sounds free to me.”

“Yeah, you worry too much, Hermione,” said Ron between bites of food. 

Many nights passed of them moving around, never staying in any place for too long. Some nights, they had no food at all, just water. 

Harry and Kit always fared better on those days, since they were accustomed to periods of near starvation at the Dursley home and Thompson Manor. 

Hermione and Su bore reasonably well, both having been brought up in modest homes where sometimes they ate a little less. Both girls’ tempers were shorter whenever they didn’t have food, but they managed.

Ron and Blaise, however, were accustomed to three delicious meals a day, either from the Hogwarts house elves or the food made in their homes. Ron in particular was very accustomed to Mrs. Weasley’s cooking, and Blaise had grown up with servants always willing to make him a snack if he wanted. Blaise did his best not to be cross, and preferred to stay quiet if it meant not coming off as rude, but Ron, especially when he wore the Horcrux, was becoming downright unpleasant on those days.

They did their best to work together to find the other Horcruxes, offering ideas of places that might be meaningful to Voldemort. Kit was trying hard to offer anything she knew, but it became apparent that in her time at Thompson Manor that summer, she really hadn’t been in the know about many important things. Likely, Voldemort had been civil to her because he wanted to see if she could be trusted first, truly, before saying anything important.

For now, it seemed as though they were on their own to figure things out. Dumbledore hadn’t left them much to go off of, and even with six brains, nothing was really yielding to be of use.

Kit only hoped they’d find something useful before discord tore apart the group.


	91. Chapter 91

**Ron was being sarcastic all the next morning.**

“Yeah, let’s go to Albania,” he said snidely when they were discussing the meaningful places to Voldemort. “Shouldn't take more than an afternoon to search an entire country.”

Su calmly put her hand on his as Hermione spoke, “There might not be anything there. He’d already made five of his Horcruxes before he went into exile, and DUmbledore was certain the snake is the sixth. We know the snake’s not in Albania, it’s usually with Vol—”

“STOP!” snapped Ron. “I asked you lot to stop saying that! You and Harry seem to be the only ones that have an issue calling him anything other than that!”

“Fine,” said Hermione coldly. “The snake is usually with _You-Know-Who_ — happy?”

“Not particularly.”

Su moved her hand to rub his back, casting the others apologetic looks. Lately, with Ron in his bad moods, she was the only one he was kind to without fault, not only because she was his girlfriend but because when they did have food, she was the one who made it, and it seemed her cooking reminded him enough of home. 

“I can’t see him hiding anything at Borgin and Burkes,” reiterated Kit for what felt like the millionth time, just to break the nasty silence. “Borgin and Burke were experts on Dark objects and they would have recognized a Horcrux straight away.”

“The only other place is Hogwarts,” said Blaise, clasping his hands together. Harry seemed pleased to hear this.

“Yes, that’s what I keep saying.”

Hermione sighed. “But Dumbledore would have found it, Harry!”

“Dumbledore said in front of me that he never assumed he knew all of Hogwarts’ secrets. I’m telling you, if there was one place Vol—”

“Oi!”

“YOU-KNOW-WHO, then!” spat Harry. “If there was one place that was really important to You-Know-Who, it was Hogwarts!”

“Oh, come on,” scoffed Ron. “His school?”

“Yes, his school! It was his first real home, the place that meant he was special, it meant everything to him, and even after he left—”

“This is You-Know-Who we’re talking about, right?” inquired Ron as he tugged on the Horcrux around his neck. “Not you?”

“Let’s get that off,” interrupted Su, snatching the locket and placing it on herself.

Kit intervened. “We’ve already discussed that Harry and the Dark Lord bear similarities in that sense— they were quite attached to Hogwarts. Harry said that the Dark Lord asked Dumbledore to give him a job after he left, right, and Dumbledore thought he only wanted to come back to try and find something, like another founder’s object to make into a Horcrux.”

“Yes, but he didn’t get the job, did he?” said Hermione. “So he never got the chance to find a founder’s object there and hide it in the school!”

Harry didnt’ seem keen to argue anymore, and sounded defeated as he spoke, “Okay, then. Forget Hogwarts.”

Kit, on the other hand, was not burned out. “No, let’s not forget Hogwarts! Just because he didn’t get the job doesn’t mean he didn’t pass through. He insisted upon that job more than once, didn’t he? He had a chance to find things. I mean, think, no one found or got into the Chamber of Secrets since the Dark Lord was a student there, not until Harry. The Marauder’s Map doesn’t show the Room of Requirement or the Chamber of Secrets because Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs didn’t know it was there—”

“I love how you excluded Wormtail,” said Harry, amused she was sticking up for his point about Hogwarts being an important place to look.

“—and by default, there could have been hundreds of other rooms that were never pinpointed, that the Dark Lord might have known about. I mean, I dunno about the rest of you, but it strikes me as odd that we really don’t have that many teachers and classrooms, yet the school is massive. There are plenty of hallways that are empty and really just to move about or spend time alone, and there could have been concealed doors that needed a particular person or spell to open them. There is a lot about Hogwarts that Dumbledore never knew, sure, and maybe there is a sense of truth in the fact that he might have found it, but he never found the Chamber of Secrets, did he? That was Harry and Ron. The Dark Lord could have found a founder’s object and could have hidden it. In fact, all the other Horcruxes might be concealed somewhere in the castle. Think, Hogwarts is one of the safest places ever. And with rooms that people can’t find, what would be the risk of anyone getting their hands on the Horcruxes? Who knows, the Dark Lord might’ve befriended even the Bloody Baron to help him— the ghosts offer help all the time and don’t blab about it, and they can go into places that others can’t!”

Harry was beaming, but the others seemed too mentally exhausted to try and deal with Kit’s theory at the moment.

“Fine,” she said scathingly, since no one was paying attention. “We’ll look elsewhere. Maybe, we should just pause for a minute and thank Merlin and Salazar Slytherin that the Dark Lord was so full of himself, he chose the single most important and valuable objects of his life to be Horcruxes.”

Blaise snorted at this. “He likes to think he was smart but come on, now… he was so obvious. I’d have chosen a Galleon at random and tossed it into the sea on my way to America, around where there are icebergs. No one would have ever found it.”

Su smiled, and joined in on the fun. “I’d have chosen a pebble— the tiniest one I could find, and tossed it into a volcano. After all, very specific things are needed to destroy a Horcrux, and I don’t imagine naturally occurring magma would destroy it.”

Hermione let out a small laugh. “Well, the only other lead we really have is London— the orphanage where he was raised.”

When they found the place, they discovered that it had been demolished many years ago, and at the site, only a towerblock of offices remained. Hermione had suggested digging into the foundation, but Harry and Kit had insisted it was a waste of time. Both were clinging to the idea the Horcruxes would be at Hogwarts. It just didn’t make sense for them to be in a place that Voldemort had hated so much.

And so they continued to move about. Constantly packing and re-pitching their tent in different places. They made sure to remove all clues of their presence and Hermione, Blaise, and Su took turns finding lonely and secluded spots for them to stay in via Apparition. They stayed in more woods, shadowy crevices off cliffs, purple moors, gorse-covered mountainsides, and at one point, a sheltered and pebbly cove. They tried to pass off the locket every ten or so hours.

For the majority of them, wearing the Horcrux only brought a foul mood and increased fear and anxiety. It seemed that for Harry, it only heightened the pain in his scar.

“What? What did you see?” Ron demanded every time he saw Harry wince.

“A face,” answered Harry every time Ron asked. “The same face. The thief who stole from Gregorovitch.”

So far, his visions were getting nowhere, but Harry continued to refuse to learn Occlumency from Kit, which was fine by her, because it meant she had more time to curl up with her research.

She was going well underway. Spellmaking was no piece of cake, but it was good that she had taken Arithmancy and had both Su and Hermione on standby to ask more technical questions that might be the key to unlocking the exact combination. Kit couldn’t imagine how her father had poured into books for so much of his life, perfecting his own techniques. Had he used it for good, they would certainly not be here right now. In fact, Voldemort might’ve been defeated long ago if both Kenneth and Douglas Thompson had been part of the Order of the Phoenix.

Often, Kit tried to induce more pleasant dreams by letting her imagination run wild. She tried to imagine an alternate reality where her parents and Draco’s had been Order members, and that she and Draco had grown up in Grimmauld Place with Sirius as an uncle of sorts. They’d have been friends with Ron, Su, and Harry, whose own parents had been in the Order. Most times, she worked her brain extra hard to incorporate Blaise and Hermione, pretending that Hermione’s parents might’ve been Muggle lookouts and that Blaise’s mother had been a sort of spy. She pretended that all had been well and they’d all been just a bunch of children enjoying their lives while their parents formed what certainly would have been a very strong resistance.

Days turned into weeks, and everyone felt drained, but no one spoke of it. Su did her best to constantly plan for meals and find food where they could. Hermione and Blaise were researching as much as they could in the books that the former had brought in her beaded bag. Ron was more often than not in a bad mood, and Harry isolated himself many hours at a time, likely trying to catch glimpses of Gregorovitch that would prove useful. Thus, Kit was left alone long enough to keep working on her countercurse.

But her mind wandered to Draco nearly all the time. She tried not to think of him, because yearning would mean that she’d be sad and unfocused. After all, the Death Eaters could in no way find out that he and Narcissa had helped her escape— they’d taken preventative measures for that. However, Kit was constantly reminded of what he’d done to Rabastan, and had to fear that he was being sent on dangerous missions with Rodolphus, who would be happy to let him die as revenge for what he did to his brother. He could have gotten seriously hurt, and she would never know until she saw him again, which could be months or years in the future.

Neither could risk sending a Patronus. At this point, the Death Eaters knew what Kit’s Patronus looked like, and if they learned that Draco could conjure one of his own, he mind be tortured for information.

“Hermione,” said Kit one evening as she closed her book. “Is there a way for wizards to communicate… telepathically?”

She blinked. “No, I don’t think so. It’d take a very complicated spell that might not exist yet, or a potion, and it’d need to be done on both parties to tie them together.” She seemed to know why Kit was asking. “If you did manage to create such a potion or spell, he’d need to be here to get it done, too. You can always borrow my Patronus if you want to send him a message. Or Blaise’s— I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

Kit had made to say no, but Blaise had butted in, and waved his wand. The silvery otter matching Hermione’s appeared, and he prompted for Kit to speak to it as he wove his wand in a figure eight.

“Smok,” she said softly, feeling a bit put on the spot but deciding to make do. She forgot everything she wanted to say to him. “I… I hope you’re okay. I miss you.” She beckoned for Blaise to end it, and he sent the otter off.

Kit let her head fall onto the table. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” said Blaise, going to sit beside Hermione as Su came to serve them some fish she’d gotten out in a riverbank in Wales. It was rather good considering she hadn’t had much to go off of tonight. 

“My mother,” said Ron when they began to eat, “can make good food appear out of thin air.”

Su forced a slight laugh. No one was surprised to see that Ron was currently wearing the Horcrux. “Well, your mum is quite talented.”

Hermione, on the other hand, couldn’t be so gentle. “Your mother can’t produce food out of thin air. No one can. Food is the first of the five Principal Exceptions of Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfigur—”

“Oh, speak English, can you?” said Ron. 

“It’s impossible to make good food out of nothing! You can Summon it if you know where it is, you can transform it, you can increase the quantity if you’ve already got some—”

“—well, don’t bother increasing this, it’s disgusting,” said Ron, which made Kit slam her hand against the table impatiently.

“Can you not be rude?” she sneered. “Su’s done her best with what we have and you ought not complain, because I don’t see you trying to help out in anyway to get her the herbs and spices she keeps asking for! Be thankful we have food tonight because other days, we don’t!”

“It’s okay, Kit,” said Su, though she glared pointedly at Ron. “I don’t cook like your mum but you better start appreciating it, because I don’t mind not cooking. I can handle being without a meal, if all you’re going to do is complain. Now, hand me that wretched locket before I tear it off your neck!”

Ron handed her the locket right away, and let out a loud breath. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, looking up at Su like he genuinely meant it. “The fish isn’t bad. I actually like it. I don’t know why I said it was disgusting.”

“It’s because of this stupid thing,” said Su as she fastened the Horcrux on herself. She always chose to take it after Ron would start throwing a fit. “You always get so snappy when you have it on, I don’t know why we have to wear—”

“Shut up!” said Harry suddenly, leaping to his feet and holding out both hands. “Shut up, now!”

“Oi, don’t yell at her!” said Ron hotly. “She’s not wrong, we don’t want to wear the—”

“No Ron, be quiet— I can hear someone!”

They all immediately went silent. The Sneakoscope remained unmoving beside them, but there was the distinct sound of voices not far away.

“You cast the Muffliato charm over us, right?” Harry whispered to Kit.

“Yes, I did everything we usually do,” she whispered back. “Whoever is there shouldn’t be able to see or hear us.”

They were quiet once more. There were scraping noises and some heavy scuffing, along with the sound of dislodged stones and twigs. There were several people out there, likely clambering down the steep, wooded slope. The voices became progressively louder as the group of what sounded like men reached the bank not far from where they were inside the tent. Hermione snatched up the beaded bag and withdrew exactly six pairs of Extendable Ears, which were quickly distributed and fed to the outside of the tent.

Within seconds, they heard a weary, male voice. 

“There ought to be a few salmon in here, or d’you reckon it’s too early in the season? _Accio salmon_!”

There were several distinct splashes and then the slapping sounds of fish against flesh. Somebody grunted appreciatively. There were more voices that could be heard, but they were not speaking English— it was more of a rough and unmelodious tongue, a string of rattling, guttural noises, and there seemed to be two speakers, one with a slightly lower, slower voice than the other.

A fire danced into life on the other side of the canvas; large shadows passed between tent and flames. The delicious smell of baking salmon wafted tantalisingly in their direction. Then came the clinking of cutlery on plates, and the first man spoke again.

“Here, Griphook, Gornuk.”

Hermione turned to the others and mouthed, ‘Goblins!’

“Thank you,” said the goblins together in English. 

“So, you three have been on the run, how long?” asked a new, mellow and pleasant voice.

“Six weeks... seven... I forget,” said the tired man. “Met up with Griphook in the first couple of days and joined forces with Gornuk not long after. Nice to have a bit of company.” There was a pause, while knives scraped plates and tin mugs were picked up and replaced on the ground. “What made you leave, Ted?”

“Knew they were coming for me,” replied mellow-voiced Ted. “Heard Death Eaters were in the area last week and decided I’d better run for it. Refused to register as a Muggleborn on principle, see, so I knew it was a matter of time, knew I’d have to leave in the end. My wife should be okay, she’s Pureblood. And then I met Dean here, what, a few days ago, son?”

“Yeah,” said another familiar voice. They all looked about, and realized these two men were Dean Thomas and Ted Tonks. 

“Muggleborn, eh?” asked the first man.

“Not sure,” said Dean. “My dad left my mum when I was a kid. I’ve got no proof he was a wizard, though.”

There was silence for a while, except for the sounds of munching; then Ted spoke again.

“I’ve got to say, Dirk, I’m surprised to run into you. Pleased, but surprised. Word was you’d been caught.”

Kit looked about and mouthed, ‘Dirk Cresswell.’ 

“I was,” said Dirk. “I was halfway to Azkaban when I made a break for it, Stunned Dawlish and nicked his broom. It was easier than you’d think; I don’t reckon he’s quite right at the moment. Might be Confunded. If so, I’d like to shake the hand of the witch or wizard who did it, probably saved my life.”

No doubt, Dawlish must be under Kenneth’s mind control, thought Kit. 

There was another pause, in which the fire crackled and the river rushed on. Then Ted said, “And where do you two fit in? I, er, had the impression the goblins were for You-Know-Who, on the whole.”

“You had a false impression,” said the higher-voiced of the goblins. “We take no sides. This is a wizards’ war.”

“How come you’re in hiding, then?”

“I deemed it prudent,” said the deeper-voiced goblin. “Having refused what I considered an impertinent request, I could see that my personal safety was in jeopardy.”

‘What did they ask you to do?’ asked Ted.

“Duties ill-befitting the dignity of my race,” replied the goblin, his voice rougher and less human as he said it. “I am not a house-elf.”

“What about you, Griphook?”

“Similar reasons,” said the higher-voiced goblin. “Gringotts is no longer under the sole control of my race. I recognise no wizarding master.”

He added something under his breath in Gobbledegook and Gornuk laughed. “What’s the joke?” asked Dean.

“He said,” replied Dirk, “that there are things wizards don’t recognise, either.” There was a short pause.

“I don’t get it,” said Dean.

“I had my small revenge before I left,” said Griphook in English.

“Good man— goblin, I should say,” amended Ted hastily. “Didn’t manage to lock a Death Eater up in one of the old high-security vaults, I suppose?”

“If I had, the sword would not have helped him break out,” replied Griphook. Gornuk laughed again and even Dirk gave a dry chuckle.

“Dean and I are still missing something here,” said Ted.

“So is Severus Snape, though he does not know it,” said Griphook, and the two goblins roared with malicious laughter.

“Didn’t you hear about that, Ted?” asked Dirk. “About the kids who tried to steal Gryffindor’s sword out of Snape’s office at Hogwarts?”

“Never heard a word,” said Ted. “Not in the Prophet, was it?”

“Hardly,” chortled Dirk. “Griphook here told me, he heard about it from Bill Weasley who works for the bank. One of the kids who tried to take the sword was Bill’s younger sister.”

Just like that, all six of them inside the tent were clutching the Extendable Ears as tightly as lifelines— especially Harry and Ron.

“She and a couple of friends got into Snape’s office and smashed open the glass case where he was apparently keeping the sword. Snape caught them as they were trying to smuggle it down the staircase.”

“Ah, God bless ’em,” said Ted. “What did they think, that they’d be able to use the sword on You-Know-Who? Or on Snape himself?”

“Well, whatever they thought they were going to do with it, Snape decided the sword wasn’t safe where it was,” said Dirk. “Couple of days later, once he’d got the say so from You-Know-Who, I imagine, he sent it down to London to be kept in Gringotts instead.”

The goblins started to laugh again. “I’m still not seeing the joke,” said Ted. 

“It’s a fake,” rasped Griphook.

“The sword of Gryffindor!”

“Oh, yes. It is a copy— an excellent copy, it is true— but it was wizard-made. The original was forged centuries ago by goblins and had certain properties only goblin-made armour possesses. Wherever the genuine sword of Gryffindor is, it is not in a vault at Gringotts Bank.”

“I see,” said Ted. “And I take it you didn’t bother telling the Death Eaters this?”

“I saw no reason to trouble them with the information,” said Griphook smugly, and now Ted and Dean joined in Gornuk and Dirk’s laughter. “After all, they’re quite busy at the moment trying to find someone who escaped their ranks.”

Kit’s heart skipped a beat, and Blaise cast her a look.

“What do you mean by that?” asked Dean. “Who escaped?”

“Daughter of one of the Death Eaters. She’s been missing from their headquarters since the end of August.”

“Kit Thompson,” said Ted, making Su bring her hand to Kit’s to squeeze it reassuringly. “Yes, my wife told me about her. She’s the girlfriend of a nephew of ours we have yet to meet.”

“Pity,” said Griphook, though he didn’t sound sad at all. “Mark my words, that girl and that boy won’t survive if they’re involved in that. Be it willingly or not.”

“How can you be sure?” asked Dean. “I know Kit and Malfoy. They’re pretty resilient. Been through terrible things already, and made it through.”

“It’s different when you have a father like Kenneth Thompson. He’s a brute, especially to goblins. One way or another, he’ll find her. And when he does, he’ll kill her.”


	92. Chapter 92

**There was silence both inside and outside the tent.**

“You don’t reckon he’d kill his own daughter?” whispered Ted after a short while.

“He killed the girl’s mother right in front of her. He’s had his other daughter brainwashed for years. What’s to say he wouldn’t? The girl might have been safer at Hogwarts, but she’s not there. Otherwise, I imagine she might have been handed over to Thompson. Reckon she’d have helped the others take the sword.”

“And what happened to Ginny and the others?” inquired Dean. “The ones who tried to steal it?”

“Oh, they were punished, and cruelly,” said Griphook indifferently.

“They’re okay, though?” asked Ted quickly. “I mean, the Weasleys don’t need any more of their kids injured, do they?”

“They suffered no serious injury, as far as I am aware,” said Griphook.

“Lucky for them,” said Ted. “With Snape’s track record, I suppose we should just be glad they’re all still alive.”

“You believe that story, then, do you, Ted?” asked Dirk. “You believe Snape killed Dumbledore?”

“‘Course I do,” said Ted. “You’re not going to sit there and tell me you think Potter had anything to do with it?”

“Hard to know what to believe these days,” muttered Dirk.

“I know Harry Potter,” said Dean. “And I reckon he’s the real thing— the Chosen One, or whatever you want to call it.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot would like to believe he’s that, son,” said Dirk, “me included. But where is he? Run for it, by the looks of things. You’d think, if he knew anything we don’t, or had anything special going for him, he’d be out there now fighting, rallying resistance, instead of hiding. And you know, the Prophet made a pretty good case against him—”

“The Prophet?” scoffed Ted. “You deserve to be lied to if you’re still reading that muck, Dirk. You want the facts, try The Quibbler.”

There was a sudden explosion of choking and retching, plus a good deal of thumping; by the sound of it, Dirk had swallowed a fishbone. At last he spluttered, “The Quibbler? That lunatic rag of Xeno Lovegood’s?”

“It’s not so lunatic these days,” said Ted. “You want to give it a look. Xeno is printing all the stuff the Prophet’s ignoring, not a single mention of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks in the last issue. How long they’ll let him get away with it, mind, I don’t know. But Xeno says, front page of every issue, that any wizard who’s against You-Know-Who ought to make helping Harry Potter their number one priority.”

“Hard to help a boy who’s vanished off the face of the earth,” said Dirk.

“Listen, the fact that they haven’t caught him yet’s one hell of an achievement,” said Ted. “I’d take tips from him gladly. It’s what we’re trying to do, stay free, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, well, you’ve got a point there,” said Dirk heavily. “With the whole of the Ministry and all their informers looking for him, I’d have expected him to be caught by now. Mind, who’s to say they haven’t already caught and killed him without publicising it?”

“Ah, don’t say that, Dirk,” murmured Ted.

There was a long pause filled with more clattering of knives and forks. When they spoke again, it was to discuss whether they ought to sleep on the bank or retreat back up the wooded slope. Deciding the trees would give better cover, they extinguished their fire, then clambered back up the incline, their voices fading away.

The six inside the tent reeled in the Extendable Ears, and immediately broke into conversation.

“Ginny,” Harry blurted out. “The sword—”

“I know!” said Hermione, lunging into her tiny beaded bag. “Blaise— tug me a little bit— just need to get a hold of— got it!”

Albeit confused, Blaise pulled at Hermione from her waist, and out of the depths of the bag came the ornate picture frame that usually held Phineas Nigellus. “If somebody swapped the real sword for the fake while it was in Dumbledore’s office,” she panted, as they propped the painting against the side of the tent, “Phineas Nigellus would have seen it happen, he hangs right beside the case!”

“He better not have been asleep!” said Su hotly as they gathered around the empty canvas. “Er— Phineas Nigellus?”

“Phineas Nigellus?” said Hermione. “Professor Black? Please could we talk to you? Please?”

“‘Please’ always helps,” said a cold, snide voice as Phineas Nigellus slid into his portrait. At once, Hermione cried, _“Obscuro!”_ and a black blindfold appeared over Phineas Nigellus’s clever, dark eyes, causing him to bump into the frame and shriek with pain.

“What— how dare— what are you—?”

“I’m very sorry, Professor Black,” said Su politely, “but it’s a necessary precaution.”

“Remove this foul addition at once! Remove it, I say! You are ruining a great work of art! Where am I? What is going on?”

“Never mind where we are,” said Harry, and Phineas Nigellus froze, abandoning his attempts to peel off the painted blindfold.

“Can that possibly be the voice of the elusive Mr. Potter?”

“Maybe,” said Harry, knowing that this would keep Phineas Nigellus’s interest. “We’ve got a couple of questions to ask you— about the sword of Gryffindor.”

“Ah,” said Phineas Nigellus, now turning his head this way and that in an effort to catch sight of Harry, “yes. That silly girl acted most unwisely there—”

“Shut up about my sister,” said Ron roughly. 

Phineas Nigellus raised his eyebrows. “Who else is here?” he asked, turning his head from side to side. “Your tone displeases me! The girl and her friends were foolhardy in the extreme. Thieving from the Headmaster!”

“But the sword isn’t even Snape’s,” Blaise pointed out.

“It belongs to Professor Snape’s school,” said Phineas Nigellus. “Exactly what claim did the Weasley girl have upon it? She deserved her punishment, as did the idiot Longbottom and the Lovegood oddity!”

“Hey, you shut up about them!” Kit sneered. “Neville isn’t an idiot and Lune isn’t an oddity!”

“Where am I?” repeated Phineas Nigellus, starting to wrestle with the blindfold again. “Where have you brought me? Why have you removed me from the house of my forebears?”

“Never mind that! How did Snape punish Ginny, Neville and Luna?” asked Harry urgently. “Professor Snape sent them into the Forbidden Forest, to do some work for the oaf, Hagrid.”

“Hagrid’s not an oaf!” said Hermione shrilly.

“That’s not even a punishment at all!” said Su, looking relieved. “They probably had a good laugh with Hagrid. They’ve faced worse than the Forbidden Forest.”

At least, this meant that the three hadn’t been tortured. 

“What we really wanted to know, Professor Black,” pressed Hermione, “is whether anyone else has, um, taken out the sword at all? Maybe it’s been taken away for cleaning or— or something?”

Phineas Nigellus paused again in his struggles to free his eyes and sniggered. “Muggleborns,” he said. “Goblin-made armour does not require cleaning, simple girl. Goblins’ silver repels mundane dirt, imbibing only that which strengthens it.”

“Don’t call her simple,” Blaise snapped. 

“I grow weary of contradiction,’ said Phineas Nigellus tiredly. “Perhaps it is time for me to return to the Headmaster’s office?” Still blindfolded, he began groping the side of his frame, trying to feel his way out of his picture and back into the one at Hogwarts. 

“Dumbledore!” cried Harry suddenly. “Can’t you bring us Dumbledore?”

“I beg your pardon?” asked Phineas Nigellus.

“Professor Dumbledore’s portrait— couldn’t you bring him along, here, into yours?”

Phineas Nigellus turned his face in the direction of Harry’s voice. “Evidently it is not only Muggle-borns who are ignorant, Potter. The portraits of Hogwarts may commune with each other, but they cannot travel outside the castle except to visit a painting of themselves hanging elsewhere. Dumbledore cannot come here with me, and after the treatment I have received at your hands, I can assure you that I shall not be making a return visit!”

“Professor Black,” said Hermione, “couldn’t you just tell us, please, when was the last time the sword was taken out of its case? Before Ginny took it out, I mean?”

Phineas snorted impatiently. “I believe that the last time I saw the sword of Gryffindor leave its case was when Professor Dumbledore used it to break open a ring.”

Kit whirled to face Harry but did not speak— not while Phineas Nigellus was still there. “Er— thanks for that, Professor Black,” she said instead. 

“Well, goodnight to you,” he said, a little waspishly, and he began to move out of sight again. 

Only the edge of his hat brim remained in view when Harry gave a sudden shout. “Wait! Have you told Snape you saw this?”

Phineas Nigellus stuck his blindfolded head back into the picture. “Professor Snape has more important things on his mind than the many eccentricities of Albus Dumbledore. Goodbye, Potter!”

And with that, he vanished completely, leaving behind him nothing but his murky backdrop.

“Harry!” cried Kit as Hermione and Blaise shoved the portrait back into the beaded bag. “The sword— the bloody fucking sword can destroy Horcruxes! Goblin-made blades imbibe only that with strengthens them— it’s filled with Basilisk venom!”

“And Dumbledore didn’t give it to me because he still needed it, he wanted to use it on the locket—”

“—and that’s why he left it to you in his will, but he knew they wouldn’t have let you have it—’

“—so he made a copy—”

“— put a fake in the glass case—”

“— and left the real one… where?”

“Think!” chimed in Hermione, her eyes wide. “Where would he have left it?”

“Definitely not at Hogwarts,” said Blaise. 

“Somewhere in Hogsmeade?” suggested Su. “No— actually, that would be risky because of Snape.”

“But Dumbledore trusted Snape,” Kit pointed out. 

“Not enough to tell him that he had swapped the swords,” said Hermione.

“Yeah, you’re right!” said Harry, putting his hands on his temples as though he’d had a marvelous epiphany. “So, he would have hidden the sword well away from Hogsmeade, then? What do you reckon, Ron?”

Ron’s face was scrunched in concentration. Without the Horcrux around his neck, he seemed to be able to think much more freely, and he seemed on the verge of something, but couldn’t figure it out. “I mean, it might have made sense if he left it somewhere private that we had access to, like Grimmauld Place, but he didn’t. The Burrow wouldn’t have been safe…” He let out a frustrated growl as the sound of rain falling came from outside. “Couldn’t Dumbledore have left us a bloody instruction manual or something? How are we meant to know where it is?”

“Maybe that’s enough thinking for tonight,” said Su quickly, noticing Ron was getting a bit annoyed. “Let’s mull it over in our sleep, and we’ll talk another time about it, alright?”

“Sure,” said Kit. “Good idea. We should leave in the morning. I can take first watch.”

“No, don’t worry, I will,” offered Ron. “I owe it to all of you for being a git earlier… and several times in the past weeks.”

He ended up remaining on watch all night with Su sleeping on his lap for company. He hadn’t wanted to wake anyone up, which was perfectly fine for them because it meant they got to sleep more.

Kit had dreamed that she was with Draco, which had been quite pleasant for her. It was just them near a sandy beach, somewhere warm and slightly humid, which was certainly a drastic change from the cold weather they were experiencing at the moment. Though no words had been exchanged in the dream, they both seemed to have been having a good life in the alternate reality, and Kit woke up smiling. Though she missed him terribly, she just tried to remain optimistic (for the first time in her life). She would see Draco again, she knew she would. 

In the morning, they saw the muddy river beside them was rising rapidly and would soon spill over onto their bank. Packing quickly, they’d gotten everything settled and grasped hands. Blaise had Disapparated them to a windswept, heather-covered hillside.

They pitched the tent near some large rocks that they could use to sit on outside, but had gathered back inside the tent for the day because it was far too cold. Harry had suggested observing the Marauder’s Map, and had laid it out on the table after Kit and Hermione cast protection spells.

They saw Seamus Finnigan moving about with Neville in the hallway, and saw Ginny had apparently snuck Luna into the Gryffindor dormitory, where they were both pacing about and maybe discussing their plans. Kit and Su caught sight of Terry and Anthony in the Head Boy dormitory, and had suggested at that moment to close the map and have a different conversation just so the others wouldn’t see, since they did not yet know of the two of them being together. At the very least, they appeared to be safe. 

They tried to figure out where Gryffindor’s sword might be, but after Ron’s comment about Dumbledore not leaving them anything to go off of, the general feeling in the air was a sort of despair, because they were really trying to figure out something without any type of basis. It was difficult to cope with the fact that they had no solid leads, and it was very discouraging for Kit to think that even with six brains, there was not much they could do if the old wizard hadn't left any real or helpful hints. He had likely not even expected that Su, Blaise, and Kit would have accompanied the Gryffindor Trio out on this journey, yet here they were without anything that might prove to yield any answers. 

At least, they were able to have some company in Phineas Nigellus, who did not seem able to resist the chance to find out more about what Harry was up to, and consented to reappear, blindfolded, every few days or so. Even amidst snide and taunting comments, he passed on news about Hogwarts, though they had to be careful not to criticize or ask impertinent questions about Snape, since Phineas venerated him, the first Slytherin Headmaster since he himself had controlled the school. 

He did let drop certain important snippets. Snape seemed to be facing a constant, low-level of mutiny from a hard core of students. Ginny had been banned from going into Hogsmeade. Snape had reinstated Umbridge’s old decree forbidding gatherings of three or more students, or any unofficial student societies. The group deduced that Ginny, Neville, and Luna might have taken to re-starting Dumbledore’s Army.

The only issue was that Phineas Nigellus often tried to ask not-so-subtle questions regarding the group’s whereabouts, but whenever he did this, Hermione and Blaise were ready to shove him back into the beaded bag. 

As time passed, the weather grew colder and colder. They did not dare remain in any one area too long, so rather than staying in the south of England, where a hard ground frost was the worst of their worries, they continued to meander up and down the country, braving a mountainside, where sleet pounded the tent, a wide flat marsh, where the tent was flooded with chill water, and a tiny island in the middle of a Scottish loch, where snow half buried the tent in the night.

They had already spotted Christmas trees twinkling from several sitting-room windows, and thinking it must be Christmas already, Su and Hermione had snuck to the supermarket nearby under the Invisibility Cloak and procured materials for a very good meal, in which their bellies were left full and satisfied, the Horcrux placed on the table so no one would be in a foul mood.

“I’ve been thinking,” said Harry aloud. “I want to go to Godric’s Hollow.”

“Good idea,” said Kit. “I think we should. The sword could be there.”

“It’ll be dangerous,” pointed out Su. “But we need to search for it. Dumbledore must have known you’d want to go back there, I mean, Godric’s Hollow is Godric Gryffindor’s birthplace.”

Harry did not seem to have known this. “Really? Gryffindor came from Godric’s Hollow?”

Blaise let out a laugh. “Oh come on, mate, don’t tell me you didn’t even crack open _A History of Magic_ after all these years of Hermione mentioning it.”

Ron began to laugh as Harry scratched the back of his head. “Erm… I might’ve opened it… you know, when I bought it… just the once…”

“The village is named after him, for fuck’s sake,” Su giggled as Hermione dug into her bag and extracted her old copy of _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot, which she thumbed through until finding the page she wanted.

“‘Upon the signature of the International Statute of Secrecy in 1689,’” recited Hermione, “‘wizards went into hiding for good. It was natural, perhaps, that they formed their own small communities within a community. Many small villages and hamlets attracted several magical families, who banded together for mutual support and protection. The villages of Tinworth in Cornwall, Upper Flagley in Yorkshire and Ottery St Catchpole on the south coast of England were notable homes to knots of wizarding families who lived along- side tolerant and sometimes Confunded Muggles. Most celebrated of these half-magical dwelling places is, perhaps, Godric’s Hollow, the West Country village where the great wizard Godric Gryffindor was born, and where Bowman Wright, wizarding smith, forged the first Golden Snitch. The graveyard is full of the names of ancient magical families, and this accounts, no doubt, for the stories of hauntings that have dogged the little church for many centuries.’”

Hermione closed the book. “Harry and his parents aren’t mentioned because Professor Bagshot doesn’t cover anything later than the end of the nineteenth century.”

Harry was pensive for a moment. “Remember what Muriel said?”

“My great aunt?” huffed Ron. “What did she say?”

“She said Bathilda Bagshot still lives in Godric’s Hollow,” said Harry.

Blaise’s eyes widened. “Wait— isn’t Bathilda Bagshot friends with Dumbledore?”

“Yes!” cried Hermione. “What if— what if Bathilda’s got the sword? What if Dumbledore entrusted to her?”

“Yeah, he might’ve done,” mused Ron. “So, are we going to Godric’s Hollow?”

Hermione pursed her lips. “Here’s the thing, I don’t know if we should all go.”

“How can we not all go?” cried Su. “We’re in this together, are we not?”

“Well, yes, but we have to use Disillusionment Charms or Polyjuice Potion— wouldn’t a large group of us attract attention? We don’t know what it’s like over there, what if there are Death Eaters waiting there?”

“I have to go,” said Su firmly. “My father’s buried there, and I haven’t ever been taken to see his grave. Harry has to go too, his parents are buried there as well.”

“Kit has to go,” said Blaise. “If someone gets hurt, she has to be there to help them.”

“Well, Blaise and I have to go, we’re moral support!” said Ron pointedly. 

“Fine, we can all go,” sighed Hermione after this, not wanting to argue any further. “But we’re not going today or tomorrow. We need to plan ahead, we need proper disguises.”

“Hey, I don’t mind if I have to pretend to be a dog or something,” said Kit with a shrug. “I just think we have strength in numbers.”

There was an almost silent argument as they all looked around, daring the others to challenge their points about how they should go about this. However, not even Hermione dared to counter anyone anymore, apparently having given up and just decided that they'd need to be excessively careful once they got about to entering the little village.

“It’s settled then,” said Harry. “By the end of this week, we’re going to Godric’s Hollow.”


	93. Chapter 93

**It took the entire week to plan ahead.**

Were it not for Hermione, the others would have just impulsively gone along. Instead, they had to first steal hairs from several people to turn into: Hermione and Blaise would turn into an elderly couple while Harry and Su elected to become their younger children, who were around Sirius’s age. Kit and Ron had had a blast when they were told they’d pretend to be Su’s children, looking to be around ten or younger.

“It’s going to look so wicked,” Ron had said. “Nice big family, all of us armed with wands and able to move faster than we should at our ages…”

“I’m just enjoying the prospect of being a kid again,” Kit said playfully.

Under the cover of darkness, they apparated to the village and took the Polyjuice Potion. Harry made sure to tuck the Horcrux in his coat pocket. 

“The snow,” moaned Hermione, sounding worried. “We didn’t think of leaving prints!”

“I’ll handle it, love,” said Blaise, patting her back reassuringly and going around to point at each of their feet, casting a spell that left the snow unmarked beneath the weight of their bodies. 

They walked down the snowy road, cottages on either side of them and Christmas decorations twinkling in their windows. A short way ahead of them, a glow of golden streetlights indicated the centre of the village.

Strung all around with coloured lights, there was what looked like a war memorial in the middle, partly obscured by a windblown Christmas tree. There were several shops, a post office, a pub and a little church whose stained-glass windows were glowing jewel bright across the square.

The snow here had become impacted: it was hard and slippery where people had trodden on it all day. Villagers were crisscrossing in front of them, their figures briefly illuminated by street lamps. They heard a snatch of laughter and pop music as the pub door opened and closed; then they heard a carol start up inside the little church.

“I think it’s Christmas Eve!” said Hermione. “I’m sure it is…”

Su addressed the group as they saw the church. “The graveyard’s behind that,” she said quietly as they moved closer to where the war memorial was. As they had passed it, it had transformed. Instead of an obelisk covered in names, there was a statue of three people: a man with untidy hair and glasses, a woman with long hair and a kind, pretty face, and a baby boy sitting in his mother’s arms. Snow lay upon all their heads, like fluffy, white caps.

“That’s me,” said Harry quietly. But he didn’t pause to look at it. “Come on…”

The singing grew louder as they approached the church. There was a kissing gate at the entrance to the graveyard. Hermione pushed it open as quietly as possible and they edged through it. On either side of the slippery path to the church doors the snow lay deep and untouched. They moved off through the snow, carving deep trenches behind them as they walked round the building, keeping to the shadows beneath the brilliant windows.

Behind the church, row upon row of snowy tombstones protruded from a blanket of pale blue that was flecked with dazzling red, gold and green wherever the reflections from the stained glass hit the snow. Keeping his hand closed tightly on the wand in his jacket pocket, Harry moved towards the nearest grave.

“Look,” said Hermione, pointing toward one of the nearby dark stones. Written in granite were the names Kendra Dumbledore and Ariana Dumbledore, with their dates of birth and death— mother and daughter. There was also a quotation: _Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also_.

They did not dwell. They continued to look, and Blaise called out, but then stopped. “Oh, nevermind, sorry, I thought this said Potter.” The grave seemed to be for someone named Ignotus, and had a strange triangle with a circle and line inside of it. 

“They’re here,” said Harry quietly from a row away. The others moved to join him, finding a headstone made of white marble that read _‘James Potter, born 27 March 1960, died 31 October 1981. Lily Potter, born 30 January 1960, died 31 October 1981. The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.’_

“Living beyond death,” whispered Kit as Harry placed his hand gently on the headstone. Hermione and Ron put their hands on his shoulders when he hung his head in silence.

Su moved off to the side, and Kit followed, seeing that just beside the Potters’ grave was that belonged to her father. Su knelt silently beside it, running her finger along what was engraved in. _‘Alexander Li, born 13 April 1957, died 23 July 1981.’_ Underneath it, there was a different inscription than the graves before it. ‘To my daughter, I am sorry I could not stay.’

The girl began to cry as she read it, and Kit was able to remain standing as she went to hug her, because in the body of this little girl, she was quite short. 

“M-Mum never wanted to come visit,” whispered Su, reaching her hand back to clutch Kit’s tightly. “S-She thought it was dangerous to step foot here. This was where they used to live when I was little. She left w-when they k-killed him.”

She wove her wand delicately, two small wreaths of Christmas roses appearing. She handed one to Kit. “Give this to Harry.” She took it and walked over, handing it to Harry. Ron took his turn to walk toward Su, going to sit beside her as she laid down her own wreath. 

“Everyone,” said Hermione aloud a few minutes later, her voice shaky. “Someone’s watching us. There, by the bushes.”

They remained quite still. “We look like a Muggle family,” whispered Blaise. “No need to worry…”

“Visiting the Potter and Li graves specifically?”

“If it was a Death Eater, we’d be dead already…”

“It’s a cat, or a bird,” suggested Ron as Su stood up. “Come on, let’s casually walk that way…”

Blaise took Kit’s hand, pretending to be a grandfather leading his granddaughter away. Harry did the same with Ron, acting as normal as they could. They moved out of the graveyard and down the road, though they ended up in yet another place that was obviously tugging at Harry’s heartstrings. 

The Fidelius Charm must have died with James and Lily. The hedge had grown wild in front of the house. Most of the cottage was still standing, though entirely covered in dark ivy and snow, but the right side of the top floor had been blown apart where the curse had backfired on Voldemort.

“I wonder why nobody’s ever rebuilt it?” whispered Kit.

“Maybe you can’t rebuild it?” Harry replied. “Maybe it’s like the injuries from Dark Magic and you can’t repair the damage?” He put his hand on the gate, and a sign rose from the ground in front of them, up through the tangles of nettles and weeds, like some bizarre, fast-growing flower, and in golden letters upon the wood it said: _On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family._

And all round these neatly lettered words scribbles had been added by other witches and wizards who had come to see the place where the Boy Who Lived had escaped. Some had merely signed their names in Everlasting Ink; others had carved their initials into the wood, still others had left messages. The most recent of these, shining brightly over sixteen years’ worth of magical graffiti, all said similar things. ‘Good luck, Harry, wherever you are.’ ‘If you read this, Harry, we’re all behind you!’ ‘Long live Harry Potter.’

“They shouldn’t have written on the sign,” said Hermione indignantly, but Harry simply beamed. “It’s brilliant. I’m glad they did. I…”

He broke off, and they all turned to where he did, seeing a slow-moving woman not far from where they were. The way she moved suggested she was quite old. There was no way she was a Muggle, considering how she was staring up at the Potter house, which would have been invisible to her. When she saw them, she beckoned for them to come closer.

Even though there were many reasons not to obey the summons, Harry was the first to move towards her, and the others followed casually, still appearing as Muggles. “Are you Bathilda?” he inquired as they neared her.

She nodded and beckoned again, beginning to hobble back the way they’d come, up a front path through a garden that was quite overgrown. She fumbled for a moment with a key at the front door, then opened it and stepped back to let them pass.

She smelled bad, or perhaps it was her house. She remained silent as she closed the door behind them, her knuckles blue and mottled against the peeling paint, then turned and peered into Harry’s face. Her eyes were thick with cataracts and sunken into folds of transparent skin, and her whole face was dotted with broken veins and liver spots. 

“Bathilda?” repeated Harry slowly as she unwound a moth-eaten, black shawl, revealing a head of scant white hair through which the scalp showed clearly.

She nodded again and shuffled past them, pushing Hermione aside as though she had not seen her, and vanished into what seemed to be a sitting room.

“This is not giving me a good feeling,” said Su meekly as she remained closer to the door.

“She’s tiny,” noted Ron. “I think we could overpower her if we had to.”

Harry faced them. “Listen, I should have told you, I knew she wasn’t all there. Muriel called her ‘gaga.’”

“Come!” called Bathilda from the next room, making them all flinch. Harry gave the others a reassuring smile as he led the way into the sitting room. 

Bathilda was tottering around the place lighting candles, but it was still very dark, not to mention extremely dirty. Thick dust crunched beneath their feet and Harry’s nose detected, underneath the dank and mildewed smell, something worse, like meat gone bad. He wondered when was the last time anyone had been inside Bathilda’s house to check whether she was coping. She seemed to have forgotten that she could do magic too, for she lit the candles clumsily by hand, her trailing lace cuff in constant danger of catching fire.

“Let me do that,” offered Harry, and he took the matches from her. She stood watching him as he finished lighting the candle stubs that stood on saucers around the room, perched precariously on stacks of books and on side tables crammed with cracked and mouldy cups.

He then moved away to where Bathilda had several photographs laid out, and Kit awkwardly moved forward with Ron. Since they were still appearing as two small children, they were shorter than Bathilda by a little, and she paused to look at them as though not taking them seriously at all, though it gave Kit chills. Could the woman really see at all? Something felt off. 

“Mrs— Miss— Bagshot?” Harry said, as Hermione offered to light the fire for Bathilda. “Who is this?” He held up a picture in his hands. “Who is this person?”

She peered at it solemnly, then up at Harry. “Do you know who this is?” he repeated, in a much slower and louder voice than usual. “This man? Do you know him? What’s he called?”

Bathilda merely looked vague. “Who is this man?” he repeated loudly.

“Apologies for my son, ma’am,” said Blaise awkwardly, patting Harry with his old hand as if reminding him they need not act so obvious. 

“This picture, Blaise, it’s the thief, the thief who stole from Gregorovitch! Please! Who is this?”

But she only stared at him. “Er— why did you ask us to come with you, Mrs— Miss— Bagshot?” asked Hermione. “Was there something you wanted to tell us?”

Giving no sign that she had heard Hermione, Bathilda now shuffled a few steps closer to Harry. With a little jerk of her head, she looked back into the hall.

“You want us to leave?” Harry asked. She repeated the gesture, this time pointing first at him, then at herself, then at the ceiling. “Oh, right... I think she wants me to go upstairs with her.”

“Let’s go, then,” said Su. But when they all moved, Bathilda shook her head with surprising vigour, once more pointing first at Harry, then to herself.

Harry frowned. “She wants me to go with her, alone.”

“Why?” asked Blaise, more tensely than before. 

“Maybe Dumbledore told her to give the sword to me, and only to me?”

“Do you really think she even knows who you are?”

“Yes,” said Harry. “I think she does.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “Well, okay then, be quick, Hary.”

“Lead the way,” Harry told Bathilda.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Kit turned to Su. “Take Ron and go. Wait for us at the camp.”

“Why?” said Su quietly. “What—”

“Something is wrong,” Kit said shakily, bringing out her wand. “Just— please, trust me, and go. We’ll meet you back there. We need someone guarding the tent in case things go wrong. Have medical supplies ready for me— anything you can find.”

Su did not inquire further. Taking Ron’s hand, they Apparated away with a crack. Kit tiptoed closer to the stairs and listened. “I can’t hear Harry speaking,” she said quietly. “There’s…. A weird nose between pauses.”

Hermione and Blaise moved forward. “What the hell—?” said Blaise. There was a sort of hissing sound coming from upstairs. A thump, and then movement above. “Harry?” called Blaise loudly.

He didn’t answer. “Something is wrong,” said Hermione. The three began to run up the stairs, and Hermione let out a scream when they got to the room above, finding a gigantic snake where Bathilda should have been, and Harry on the floor. 

Kit immediately slashed her wand in the air. “It’s the Dark Lord’s snake!” she cried as she shot the snake back. Blaise tore forward and pulled Harry away just as the snake lunged. There was a loud bang and a flash of red light as Hermione and Kit tried to keep the snake from attacking Harry, who was now screaming in pain and thrashing in Blaise’s arms, legs still weak against the ground. 

“He’s coming!” Harry bellowed. “He’s coming!”

Hermione wove her wand and there was an explosion, the spell ricocheting all around the room as the four dropped down, the snake giving a horrible hiss… 

“Get him out of here!” screamed Hermione as she and Kit both shot another spell at the snake, who was massive enough to encompass practically the entire room. With a crack, Blaise disappeared and so did Harry, and the snake recoiled enough that Hermione suddenly grabbed Kit and Apparated them away as well, the four landing within seconds of each other back in the snow where their tent was. Su and Ron ran out from inside of it with a bag as Harry kept yelling and practically seizing in the snow.

“Get the Horcrux away from him!” Blaise yelled as Kit tore the dittany away from Ron. They tore it from his coat pocket and Kit ripped his coat off, revealing that the snake had bitten him just before the others had arrived in the attic. She poured the dittany on it and pressed her wand to the wound, muttering Healing Spells as fast as he dared. Blaise did his best to hold Harry down, but he was still screaming, and still clearly in pain—

“His scar looks red,” said Kit just as the screaming stopped and Harry went completely still, as though he had gone unconscious. “What the bloody hell— how did the snake end up there, and where on Earth did Bathilda go?”

“I don’t know,” said Hermione shakily. “Has everyone got their wands? Nothing left be—” 

She stopped and covered her mouth. Sticking out of Harry’s coat pocket was his wand, she pulled it out, and a terrible sight followed.

The holly and phoenix wand was nearly severed in two. One fragile strand of phoenix feather kept both pieces hanging together. The wood had splintered apart completely. Were it a person, it would be barely alive.

“Oh no!” Hermione shrieked. “No— no— that’s all my fault, I cast that spell when he was still not off the floor…”

“It’s not your fault,” said Su immediately as she brought it out. “Crap… it really is broken, and these things aren’t easily fixed.” She put it on the floor and pointed her own wand at it. _“Reparo!”_ Nothing happened, and she bit her lip. “We… we haven’t got an extra lying around, do we?”

“No,” said Ron miserably.

It was hours before Harry woke up, and he had been muttering in his sleep the whole time. Kit remained at his side, dabbing his forehead gently with a small sponge after Ron and Blaise had carried him to his bunk. 

“Hey,” said Kit gently when his eyes opened. “Do you feel alright?”

“Yes,” he said, though it didn’t sound like he was telling the truth. “We got away… how long ago did we leave?”

“Hours ago,” said Kit. “It’s nearly morning. The others are asleep, or at least, trying to sleep.”

“And I’ve been… what, unconscious?”

“Somewhat. You were murmuring quite a bit, but nothing I could make out. I healed up the wound you got from the snake, though, and we stored the Horcrux in Hermione’s bag for now to keep it away from you.”

He winced. “We shouldn’t have gone to Godric’s Hollow. It’s my fault, it’s all my fault… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be absurd, Harry, it’s not your fault. We all wanted to go. We really thought Dumbledore would have left the sword there for you.”

There was movement, and the others, who had most definitely not been sleeping, came over. “Hey, mate,” said Ron. “How d’you feel?”

“Fine,” answered Harry. 

“What happened?” whispered Hermione. “What happened when she took you upstairs? Was the snake hiding somewhere? Did it just come out and kill her and attack you?”

“No. She was the snake… or the snake was her… all along.”

Blaise put his hand on his forehead. “The weird hissing noises. She wanted to get you along to speak Parseltongue with you. So that the rest of us wouldn’t realize…”

Kit pursed her lips. “The smell of the house, too… Bathilda must have been dead a while.”

Harry nodded. “The snake was… was inside her. You-Know-Who put it there in Godric’s Hollow, to wait. He knew I’d go back.” He ran his tongue slowly over his lips, and Kit dabbed again at his forehead. “Once we were up in the room, the snake sent a message to You-Know-Who… I heard it happen inside my head, I felt him get excited, he said to keep me there… and then… she changed. Changed into the snake and attacked.”

He looked down at his bandaged arm. “It wasn’t supposed to kill me, just keep me there ‘til You-Know-Who came.” He started to get up and Kit pushed him back down. “No,” she said sharply. “You ought to rest, even if you feel healed.”

“I’m fine,” said Harry. “I’ll keep watch for awhile, I won’t move. Where’s my wand?”

They all went silent. Wordlessly, Su extracted it, and he looked down at it. “Mend it,” he told her. “Please.”

“I tried, Harry,” Su answered weakly. “When it’s broken like this—”

“Try again!”

Su gulped and put her wand against it. _“Reparo. Reparo!”_

The dangling half of the wand resealed itself, and she handed it back to Harry. _“Lumos!”_ he said. The wand sparked feebly, then went out. Harry pointed it at Su. _“Expelliarmus!”_

Su wand gave a little jerk, but did not leave her hand. The feeble attempt at magic was too much for Harry’s wand, which split into two again. 

“I’m so sorry,” said Hermione from behind Su. “I think it was my fault. I cast a Blasting Curse, and it rebounded everywhere, and it must have— must have hit—”

“It was an accident,” said Harry, though his statement sounded empty. “We’ll— we’ll find a way to repair it.”

“Mate, I don’t think you’ll be able to,” Ron muttered glumly. “My wand broke crashing the car in second year, and it was never the same again. I had to get a new one.”

“How about you just remain resting, okay, Harry?” suggested Kit, motioning for the others to get away. “We’ll figure something out in the morning.”

It remained just him and her, and it was clear Harry was not happy with finding out that his wand was no longer going to work.

“Hey,” Kit whispered, sitting on the edge of the bunk and dabbing the side of his neck when he shivered. “It’s okay to feel emotional, you know? No judgement.”

He began to cry silently, and she hugged him to muffle his tears.


	94. Chapter 94

**Harry’s mood became progressively worse as the days went on.**

First, there was the fact he had no wand. Though he had cried, he still felt a great sense of loss, but had not spoken so overtly about it to anyone other than Kit.

Secondly, he’d been reading Rita Skeeter’s book about Dumbledore, which Ron had snatched up before he and Su Disapparated from Bathilda’s house. It had yielded the most unexpected information about the Dumbledore family regarding Dumbledore’s mother, Kendra, and siblings, Abertforh and Ariana. Additionally, the book went into detail about the fact that Albus Dumbledore himself had been a friend of Gellert Grindelwald, who was Bathilda’s nephew. This had put Harry on edge, because parts hinted at Dumbledore not being the great man he had thought him to be. In fact, he had shared some more sinister ideals with Grindelwald, it would seem, conveyed through a letter that hinted toward him wanting to conquer Muggles by force. 

Hermione thought that Harry was angry because Dumbledore had never actually told him all of this information about himself. She supposed he was hurt because he thought he knew Dumbledore well, but he really didn’t, and that was exemplified in the fact that he’d sent them on a wild goose chase for Horcruxes. 

Kit had been saddened the day Harry had ranted to her about his anger. In his mind, all Dumbledore had ever done was make him risk his life blindly, and put him in harm’s way. The Ravenclaw couldn’t disagree. After all, her parents had neve trusted Dumbledore, and though she was nothing like her father, the one astounding similarity they had beside their mannerisms was the fact that up to date, neither had ever really admired or trusted Albus Dumbledore. 

Within the days after Harry had read through the book and learned the things about Dumbledore that he hadn’t known, the group moved on to another location. They’d pitched the tent into still snowy ground after Hermione had Disapparated the whole group.

“Where are we?” asked Su quietly as they began to cast protective spells.

“The Forest of Dean,” said Hermione while Blaise helped her begin setting up plates for a meal. “I came camping here once, with my mum and dad.”

All around, snow lay on the trees, and it was still bitterly cold, though the wind did not hit them so harshly where they were. They spent most of the first two days inside the tent, only going out in pairs to gather food.

The third night, Harry had been looking saddened once more, and he’d asked the others to go to bed while he kept watch. Worrying for him, Ron had offered to stay with him.

The others had woken up not long after, hearing yelling in the distance.

“What is that?” muttered Blaise sleepily as he stood up. “Wait— Harry? Ron? Where— where did they go?”

“They’re not here?” cried Su, sitting up and rubbing her eyes before snatching her wand up. They stumbled toward the entrance of the tent and found that it was just the four of them. It was very dark outside, but there was the distinct sound of yells in the distance.

“What the bloody hell?” breathed Kit. Su made her way out of the tent but she pulled her back. “No! We don’t know what’s out there!”

“So we’re just going to let them die?” she cried, trying to get away. “Ron! RON!”

“They won’t hear you if they’re out there!” said Hermione in a worried voice. “The— the yelling doesn’t sound pained. I don’t know if it’s them, but something is happening—”

“All the more reason to go!” Su said, and Blaise had to dive forward to help hold her back.

“Su, calm down,” he insisted. “We can’t just rush out—” He stopped. “The yelling— there’s no more yelling!”

“RON!” Su sobbed frantically. “RON! I swear to you— if he’s dead and it’s your fault— I swear—”

But he wasn’t dead. They could hear footsteps approaching, and the distinct voices of Harry and Ron. There was a strange clicking noise and a light in the distance, as though they were trying to find the tent again. They likely would have stepped out of the spell boundaries and would need to be let in.

“Here it is,” came Ron’s voice, a light shining just outside. Both Kit and Blaise let Su go, and she sprinted out, jumping into his arms and catching him by surprise. “Oh, hello,” he chuckled lightly, looking a bit out of breath. 

“You arse!” Su cried. “Why didn’t you tell us you two were going on a bloody adventure?”

“Well, we didn’t know we were going on one!” protested Ron as she pulled him in for a kiss, which shut him up right away.

“Oi, what happened?” asked Blaise as Harry stepped into the tent.

“We were on watch,” began Harry, holding up his hand and showing the destroyed locket and the sword of Gryffindor. “And we— we saw a Patronus. A doe.”

“A doe?” said Hermione as Su dragged Ron back into the tent, still peppering kisses all over his face. 

“Yes,” answered Ron in a brief moment when Su wasn’t fussing over him. She must have thought she was going to lose him. “We followed it, and it led us to the sword. It was under this frozen lake. Like an idiot, Harry tried to jump in—”

“With the locket on,” said Harry sheepishly.

“—and I had to get in to save him. I destroyed the Horcrux. Stabbed it with the sword.”

“But we heard yelling,” said Kit. “What happened?”

“The Horcrux screamed. Then Harry was sort of yelling at me to keep stabbing it… some pretty awful things were being said. But look— we found a wand in the forest.”

Blaise raised his eyebrows. “A wand?”

“Yes, it was just sort of abandoned there,” Harry said, holding it up. _“Lumos!”_ It lit up immediately. _“Nox.”_ The light went out. “It… it’s almost like someone knew my wand broke and they left me one.”

“Whoever it was that cast the Patronus, then,” mused Hermione. “But— but you didn’t see who—?”

“No, we were too busy following it,” Harry answered. “And when we were making our way back, we couldn’t see the tent anywhere, or hear anything.”

“How did you find us, then?” asked Kit. “It was too dark to see your previous tracks.”

Ron reached into his pocket and brought out a small silver object. “This.”

“The Deluminator?” Hermione gasped. “But— what? How—?”

“It doesn’t just turn the lights on and off,” said Ron. “I don’t know how it works or why it happened, but I heard Su’s voice.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “My voice?”

“Yes. Your voice coming out of my pocket. Your voice coming out of the Deluminator. You were saying my name and then I heard Blaise sort of telling her to calm down—”

Su turned pink. “Well, I was screaming because they wouldn’t let me go after you!”

He smiled at her. “It led us right back to the tent, where it should be, and then you came out and greeted us.”

“But— but how did it lead you back?”

“I sort of clicked it and a light appeared kind of in front of us. Then, it went… inside me. Harry saw it. I just knew where to go, and we walked right here.”

They did not speak anymore the rest of the night. Still worried about him, Su had pulled Ron to their bunk and whispered a series of kind words and several ‘I love you’s’ while the others tried to get back to sleep, having decided they would speak of the matter again in the morning. 

At breakfast, Ron had brought out the radio, and had tried to tune into a few stations to lay some music as they ate. After that, they’d split for a bit so that Kit could do her research. She felt she was incredibly close… she had the incantation down for the most part, but no way to test it. She thought it would work, but there was no real way of knowing. 

“Kit?” called Hermione, who’d been off to the side in the armchair. Kit made her way over. The Gryffindor had been reading The Tales of Beedle the Bard, which Kit vaguely recalled to be a children’s storybook. She’d heard of it from Draco, but her own parents had never read it to her. 

“Look at that symbol,” she said, pointing to the top of a page. There was a picture of a familiar looking triangle with a circle and a line inside of it. 

“You took Runes longer than I did,” said Kit sheepishly. “Dunno what it means.”

“But it’s not a rune and it’s not in the syllabary, either. Have you ever seen it before?”

“I don’t recall from where.” 

Hermione let out a sigh and waved over the others, who all peered over. “Think— I know we’ve seen this before but I can’t remember.”

“That was on that grave in Godric’s Hollow,” observed Blaise. “The one for Ignotus. I think the name on top was Peverell?”

“Wait a minute,” said Harry after squinting at it for a moment. “Isn’t it the same symbol Luna’s dad was wearing round his neck? It’s Grindelwald’s mark.”

“What?” Su gasped. “Grindelwald’s mark?”

“Krum told me,” said Harry. “He reckoned that symbol was carved on a wall at Durmstrang, and Grindelwald put it there.”

“That’s odd,” said Blaise. “If it’s a symbol of Dark Magic, what’s it doing in a book of children’s stories and what was it doing on someone’s grave?”

Harry shook his head. “Dunno. And you’d think Scrimgeour would have recognised it. He was Minister, he ought to have been an expert on Dark stuff.”

“I know,” said Hermione, “perhaps he thought it was an eye, just like I did. All the other stories have little pictures over the titles. But it keeps cropping up, doesn’t it? I know Viktor said it was Grindelwald’s mark, but it was definitely on that old grave in Godric’s Hollow, and the dates on the headstone were long before Grindelwald came along! And now this! Well, we can’t ask Dumbledore or Grindelwald what it means— I don’t even know whether Grindelwald’s still alive – but we can ask Mr. Lovegood. He was wearing the symbol at the wedding. I’m sure this is important.”

Ron pursed his lips. “Wait, I know that. Lemme see the book.”

Hermione handed it to him and he flipped through it. “Yeah, I remember this. Mum used to read us these stories when we were little. That symbol— it’s the Deathly Hallows.”

“The Deathly Hallows?” inquired Kit. “What’s that?”

“This story here near the end— The Tale of the Three Brothers. It explains it. Haven’t you ever heard it?”

“No,” said Kit bluntly. “I didn’t get books read to me when I was little.”

“I vaguely remember it,” recalled Su.

“Me too,” Blaise chimed in.

Harry frowned. “So it’s just Kit and I that don’t know it? Well, I suppose we could do some silent reading…”

“Hurry up, then,” Hermione said as Ron handed them the book.

They wasted no time in reading it. After all, the story was very short. It revolved around three brothers who were wizards. They had been spoken to by Death, who gave them gifts. The oldest brother was given a powerful wand, as he desired to win duels against anyone. The second brother wanted to humiliate Death, and was given a stone to bring back the dead. The youngest brother was given an Invisibility Cloak, as he did not want to be followed by Death, who he did not trust. 

They each met their deaths, eventually. The first brother was foolish enough to flaunt about his wand, and someone killed him, and took it, meaning Death was able to gain the oldest brother for himself. The second brother had gone mad after bringing back a woman he’d loved, and had killed himself, and thus handed his life over to Death. The third brother, however, got to grow old and had a son, using the Invisibility Cloak to hide from Death. Kit was rather touched by the ending: “It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.”

“That’s a sweet ending,” said Kit softly. “So, what then, does that have to do with the Deathly Hallows?”

“Fred and George told me that that’s what they were called,” said Ron. “But I don’t recall why.”

“I do,” said Blaise, bringing over a piece of parchment. “Andrea did some research on it for an essay she had to write for a class that used to be available at Hogwarts— Magical Myths. The triangle is supposed to be the Invisibility Cloak. The circle is the Resurrection Stone. The line is the Elder Wand.” 

“But the story doesn’t even mention the words 'Deathly Hallows,’” said Hermione. “How do you know?”

“It’s just a thing that some wizard parents tell their children,” said Blaise with a shrug. “My mum knew I had an overactive imagination and she let me learn about the myths behind it. It’s a children’s story, first and foremost. The ancient stories say that if anyone possesses the three Hallows, they will be the master of Death. Some people believe the Hollows exist, and others don’t.”

“How do the Peverells and Grindelwald fit into it, though?” said Su.

“Well, some believed the Peverells were the three brothers,” said Blaise, scrunching his face up in concentration. “I vaguely do recall the name Ignotus— he was the third brother. I think the names were Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus, yes... Wait— but then—? It makes sense!”

“What makes sense?” said Hermione a bit impatiently. “The Hallows can’t exist!”

“Hermione, love, just because we haven’t seen all of them, doesn’t mean they can’t be real. The Chamber of Secrets was supposed to be a myth, and it wasn’t. Think— Ignotus Peverell was buried in Godric’s Hollow, and who do we know that lived and died in Godric’s Hollow? Su and Harry. Who has an Invisibility Cloak? Harry.”

“Wait, that’s a good point,” murmured Su. “There’s some connection between the Peverells and the Potters, perhaps…”

“It’s possible,” said Blaise. “Ron, what d’you think?”

Ron rubbed his chin. “Has to be. It all makes sense. He’s got the Invisibility Cloak. What’s to say the other Hallows aren’t real?”

Hermione looked like she wanted to argue, but Kit put her hand on hers to stop her, and Harry took the opportunity to speak. “Marvolo Gaunt! You-Know-Who’s grandfather! In the Pensieve! With Dumbledore! Marvolo Gaunt said he was descended from the Peverells!”

Harry looked as though he’d won the lottery. “The ring, the ring that became the Horcrux, Marvolo Gaunt said it had the Peverell coat of arms on it! I saw him waving it in the bloke from the Ministry’s face, he nearly shoved it up his nose!”

“What did the coat of arms look like?” asked Kit.

“There was nothing fancy on there, as far as I could see; maybe a few scratches. I only ever saw it really close up after it had been cracked open.”

“Blimey,” said Ron, “you reckon it was this sign again? The sign of the Hallows?”

“Why not?” Harry answered excitedly. “Marvolo Gaunt was an ignorant old git who lived like a pig, all he cared about was his ancestry. If that ring had been passed down through the centuries, he might not have known what it really was. There were no books in that house, and trust me, he wasn’t the type to read fairy tales to his kids. He’d have loved to think the scratches on the stone were a coat of arms, because as far as he was concerned, having pure blood made you practically royal.”

“Where d’you reckon the ring is now?” asked Kit. “What did Dumbledore do with it after he broke it open?”

But Harry was deep in thought. “Dumbledore had my cloak, the night my parents died! Sirius showed me a letter from my mum to him— Dumbledore borrowed the Cloak! This is why! He wanted to examine it, because he thought it was the third Hallow! Ignotus Peverell is buried in Godric’s Hollow… He’s my ancestor! I’m descended from the third brother! It all makes sense! DUmbledore had the Cloak— why else would he want it? He didn’t need a Cloak, he could perform a Disillusionment Charm so powerful that he made himself completely invisible without one!”

He started to dig into one of the bags he’d been carrying, and something fell to the floor and rolled, glittering, under a chair: he had dislodged the Snitch. He stooped to pick it up, and then sprang to his feet, making everyone flinch. “It’s in here!” he cried. “He left me the ring— it’s in the Snitch!”

Kit looked around and saw that everyone looked as surprised as her. “Well, what do you think it means? It—” She then stopped and stood up. “Harry, that’s what he’s after!”

“The Elder Wand!” he cried back. “That’s— that’s why he wanted Ollivander and Gregorovitch! He wanted the Elder Wand because each wand he’s been using won’t work for him!” He put his hands on his forehead. “This is it— this explains everything. The Deathly Hallows are real, and I’ve got one— maybe two— and You-Know-Who’s chasing the third, but he doesn’t realize, he just thinks it’s a powerful wand—”

Hermione looked highly overwhelmed, still struggling to believe. “Harry, Kit, you’re just getting carried away, please… please answer me this. If the Deathly Hallows really existed, and Dumbledore knew about them, knew that the person who possessed all three of them would be master of Death, why wouldn’t he have told you? Why?”

Harry seemed to be ready to answer. “Dumbledore usually let me find out stuff for myself. He let me try my strength, take risks. This feels like the kind of thing he’d do.”

“Harry, this isn’t a game, this isn’t practice! This is the real thing, and Dumbledore left you very clear instructions: find and destroy the Horcruxes! That symbol doesn’t mean anything, forget the Deathly Hallows, we can’t afford to get sidetracked—”

“The instructions weren’t clear at all, don’t kid yourself,” said Kit. “This is the kind of mind game that Dumbledore would have gotten behind!”

“I think it’s a great possibility,” said Blaise patiently, putting his hand on Hermione’s. “I know it’s not the easiest thing to believe without enough concrete evidence, but after all the things we’ve encountered, all the things Harry in particular has seen, there has to be some truth to it all.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but didn’t, and Su butted in instead. “A lot of it makes sense, you have to admit it. Just because no one’s seen it in awhile doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Think, we’re in a word chock-full of magic and secrets. I mean, we were kids when we heard this story and we believed it to be real. Sometimes, things aren’t just fairy tales— not in the world we live in.”

“The Chamber of Secrets was meant to be a myth,” Kit reiterated what Blaise had mentioned earlier. “No one— not even the Professors, who’ve been around for ages— believed it could truly be there, not even McGonagall, but in the end, it was there, and there was a basilisk, and now, we have the sword of Gryffindor and we’ve been searching for elusive Horcruxes. At this rate, literally anything is possible!”

“Come on, Hermione,” Harry insisted. “Why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol—”

“HARRY, NO!” yelled Ron.

“—demort’s after the Elder Wand!”

There was a dreadful silence as they all glared at each other and mostly at Harry, listening, alert, for anything to happen— 

Almost immediately, the Sneakoscope on the table started to spin wildly. They all got to their feet as rough, excited voices sounded outside. Immediately, Ron clicked the Deluminator in his pocket, and the lamps went out. All that could be heard inside the tent were ragged, scared breaths. 

“Come out of there with your hands up!” came a rasping voice through the darkness. “We know you’re in there! You’ve got half a dozen wands pointing at you and we don’t care who we curse!”

There was a small flash and Kit saw Hermione had cast a spell on Harry, then another that made a small clatter happen on the table, to mask the fact she’d done something.

Gulping, the six of them stepped out with their hands up, wands still in their pockets. There had been no time to react— they’d been found far too quickly.

The first face Kit saw and recognized was that of Fenrir Greyback. A chill went down her spine when he smiled sickeningly toward her, coming forward and putting his hand on her cheek roughly.

“Well, well, well,” he rasped maliciously. “If it isn’t little Kit Thompson."


	95. Chapter 95

**"You’re supposed to be in Thompson Manor, you are…” said Greyback.**

He squeezed Kit’s cheek more harshly than before. “Your sister’s ready to let her bun out of the oven, she is... ” He turned to the men behind him. “Search the tent!”

He pulled Kit forward roughly as a few of the men went into the tent. One held his wand up and shed some light in front of their faces. Kit could see that Harry’s face was swollen, but unrecognizable. Everyone else, however, looked fine.

“Let’s see who we’ve got,” said Greyback, looking toward Harry. “What happened to you, ugly?”

“Stung,” Harry muttered. “Been stung.”

“What’s your name?” snarled Greyback.

“Dudley,” said Harry. “Vernon Dudley.”

“Check the list, Scabior,” Greyback growled, coming to Ron. “And you, Ginger?”

“Stan Shunpike,” said Ron, likely because of how nervous he was. 

Su gave a small gasp as one of the men beat his fist into Ron’s face. “Like ‘ell you are,” said the man, likely Scabior. “We know Stan Shunpike, ‘e’s put a bit of work our way.”

“I’b Bardy,” said Ron, his mouth now full of blood. “Bardy Weadley.”

“A Weasley?” rasped Greyback. “So you’re related to blood traitors even if you’re not a Mudblood. Now, this pretty little friend of yours…”

He came toward Su, and she squirmed, wanting to get away but not daring to fight back. “What’s your name, pretty?”

“S-Susan,” she said weakly. “S-Susan Boot.”

“Blood status?”

“Pureblood,” said Su. “A-All of us are P-Pureblood or H-Halfblood— we’re not— n-not traveling with M-Muggleborns.”

“That right?” mocked Greyback as he settled in front of Blaise. “Now you, I know you. I met Nathaniel back in the day… you’re a Zabini.”

“And what’s it to you?” said Blaise coldly. “Nothing wrong with that. If money’s what you want, I will get that. Leave us the hell alone.”

Greyback licked his lips, and finally came in front of Hermione. “And you, girly?”

“P-Penelope Clearwater,” said Hermione immediately.

“The ‘ole lot of ‘em look ‘Ogwarts age,” said Scabior.

“We’b lebt,” said Ron, spitting out some blood.

“Left, ‘ave you, Ginger?” said Scabior. “And you decided to go camping? And you thought, just for a laugh, you’d use the Dark Lord’s name?”

“Nod a lauh,” said Ron. “Aggiden.”

The men began to jeer. “You know who used to like using the Dark Lord’s name, Weasley?” growled Greyback. “The Order of the Phoenix. And we know that Kit here betrayed the Dark Lord to help the Order.” He looked around. “Bind them up with the other two prisoners!”

Kit was tossed to the side roughly, and they were all pushed down beside who she could recognize as Dean Thomas and a goblin. 

“It’s you!” whispered Dean when he saw the group. “If they find out who they’ve got—! They’re Snatchers, they’re only looking for truants to sell for gold—”

“Not a bad little haul for one night,” Greyback was saying. “The Zabini boy will fetch a lot of money, and Kenneth will be quite pleased to have his blood traitor daughter back in his clutches… you checked their names on the list, yet?”

“None of the names are there,” said one of Snatchers. 

“Hey!” came a shout from inside the tent. “Look at this, Greyback!” A dark figure came bustling toward them with a glint of silver appearing under the light of their wands.

“Very nice,” said Greyback appreciatively. “Oh, very nice indeed. Looks goblin-made, that. Where did you get something like this?”

“It’s my father’s,” Harry lied. “We borrowed it to cut firewood—”

“‘Ang on a minute, Greyback! Look at this— in the Prophet!” He held up the newspaper and Scabior came around to the ground. “‘Ermione Granger, the Mudblood who is known to be traveling with ‘Arry Potter! And Su Li, Halfblood known to be traveling with ‘Arry Potter… Travers’s girl, innit?”

Su acted as though she was not terrified, but it was clear that she was. “Looks like you two girlies,” Greyback sneered. “With a Weasley… and Thompson… a Zabini… well, this changes things, doesn’t it?”

“I found glasses!” yelped one of the Snatchers behind. “There was glasses in the tent, Greyback!”

Greyback took them and slapped them onto Harry’s face. Harry looked sick— Kit sensed that his scar must practically be on fire. “It is!” rasped the werewolf. “We’ve caught Potter!”

“Where do we go?” asked one of the Snatchers. “The Ministry?”

“To hell with the Ministry,” growled Greyback. “They’ll take the credit, and we won’t get a look in. I say we take him straight to You-Know-Who.”

“Will you summon ‘im ‘ere?” asked Scabior, sounding awed and terrified.

“No,” snarled Greyback. “I haven’t got— His base is at Thompson Manor. We’ll take them there.”

Kit knew Greyback did not have the Dark Mark, and she felt a rush of overwhelming gratitude that he didn’t remember that she did have one, though it was concealed under bandages. At least, at Thompson Manor, Draco might help them…

“Sure it’s ‘im?” asked Scabior nervously. “‘Cause if it ain’t, Greyback, we’re dead.”

“Who’s in charge here?” roared Greyback. “I say that’s Potter, and him plus his wand, that’s two hundred thousand Galleons right there! But if you’re too gutless to come along, any of you, it’s all for me!”

“All right!” said Scabior. “All right, we’re in! And what about the rest of ‘em, Greyback, what’ll we do with ‘em?”

“Thompson and Zabini will fetch a good price with Kenneth, likely. We’ve got two Mudbloods as well, that’s another ten Galleons. A half-blood, a Weasley, a goblin, the sword… we’re taking all of them. Grab hold and make it tight. I’ll do Potter and Thompson.”

Harry and Kit were snatched up by their hair, and there was a terrible whirling sensation as they were Disapparated right to the front iron-gates of Thompson Manor. 

“Kenneth!” bellowed Greyback. “We’ve got Potter, and your daughter! We’ve captured Harry Potter!”

The gates swung open, and the entire group was dragged forward right through the front doors. To Kit’s relief, the woman who greeted them there was not Alana, or Bellatrix, but Narcissa.

“What is this?” she said in surprise. 

“We’re here to see He Who Must Not Be Named!” rasped Greyback. “We’ve caught Harry Potter and Katherine Thompson!”

“Unhand her,” demanded Narcissa immediately when she saw Kit in his hold. “Unhand her, now!”

“Can’t do it, ma’am,” said Greyback lowly. “Only her father’s got the authority. Until he’s here, I ain’t letting her go.”

Narcissa’s hands quivered. “Lucius! Draco!”

They came down, and immediately, Draco’s eyes widened, but when he lunged toward Kit, his father snatched him back. “What is this?” asked Lucius sharply.

“We’ve got Potter,” said Greyback. “Potter and his little comrades…”

Lucius then yanked Draco forward. “Do you recognize them?” he asked immediately. “Is it? Is it Harry Potter?”

“No,” said Draco immediately.

“But look at him carefully, look! Come closer! Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv—”

“Now, we won’t be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy?” said Greyback menacingly.

“Of course not, of course not!” said Lucius impatiently. He approached Harry himself. “What di did you do to him, Greyback? How did he get into this state?”

“That wasn’t us.”

“Looks more like a Stinging Jinx to me,” said Lucius, moving over to Kit and glaring at her. Long ago, Kit and Lucius had had a good relationship. He had taken her in as a daughter, and when she and Draco were smaller, he was much kinder, and played with them, while Kit’s father had always cast them both aside because he found their youth and joy obnoxious. Now, there was no trace of that connection. Lucius saw her as only a traitor, regardless of her relationship with Draco. “Did you do this? Did you conceal him?”

“No, I didn’t!” snapped Kit. “He got stung by a hoard of bees being an idiot to get honey! It’s not even Harry Potter, do you think I’d be stupid enough to go about with him when I’m hiding from the Dark Lord?”

“Draco, look properly!” snarled Lucius. Draco came forward, but his eyes did not go to Harry. They remained on Kit, as if he was trying to figure out how to get her away.

“It’s not him, father,” said Draco firmly. It was clear he was afraid, but he was not showing it. In his proximity, Kit could see a faded scar on his cheek, likely from a mission…

“What about the others, then?” Greyback growled. 

Narcissa did not speak, though it was clear she was tempted to. Seeing the pleading look in Kit’s eyes, she remained silent. “I do not recognize any of them,” she said plainly. “Draco’s friends have never come to our home.”

“This is Blaise,” said Lucius, staring down at him. “He’s no Mudblood.” But it was clear that he had no intent to help him out of his predicament. “This, however, this is the Weasley boy. Arthur Weasley’s son! Draco—”

“That’s not him, father,” said Draco sharply, sounding very annoyed with the constant questioning. “The Weasleys aren’t the only bloody redheads—”

Kit let out a soft gasp as Lucius smacked Draco right across the face. “You lie, boy,” he snarled, shoving his own son back. Narcissa launched forward to pull Draco away, glaring at her husband. “Don’t you dare, Lucius!” she hissed.

“Narcissa, he is defending them!” spat Lucius. “We never should have let him remain friends with Katherine, she’s poisoned him—”

“She did nothing of the sort!” Draco bellowed. “I just don’t hang out with her friends! I wouldn’t know if it was them!”

The drawing room door opened, and two women stepped in, making Kit’s stomach do painful flips. Alana, her belly protruding under her robes, ready to pop, and Bellatrix, whose eyes were wild behind the heavy lids.

“Well, if it isn’t little Kitty,” purred Alana malevolently. “Look, Bella, my sister and her friends…”

“This is the Granger girl!” cried Lucius, jabbing a finger at Hermione. “And Alexander Li’s daughter, and Weasley— and Potter! Potter and Katherine and their friends, caught at last! We saw them at the Ministry.”

“Ooh, yes, I remember her,” cooed Alana as she stared at Su. “Alexander’s little brat with that Muggle wench. I think we should hold that one for Travers, when he comes back. He and my father, after all, are a bit busy…”

“If that’s Potter,” said Bellatrix excitedly, “the Dark Lord must be informed at once!” She tore up her left sleeve, but Lucius closed his hand around her wrist. 

“I shall summon him, Bella,” he said. “This house is under my authority whenever Kenneth is away—”

“Let’s not forget who was actually born a Thompson!” sneered Alana, though she did not approach from where she was near the doorway, her hands remaining around her belly.

“Lucius, you lost your authority when you lost your wand!” Bellatrix cried angrily. “How dare you! Take your hands off me!”

“This is nothing to do with you, you did not capture the boy—”

“Begging your pardon, Mr. Malfoy,” interjected Greyback, “but it’s us that caught Potter, and it’s us that’ll be claiming the gold—”

“Gold!” laughed Bellatrix, still trying to shove Lucius away as she reached for her wand. “Take your gold, filthy scavenger, what do I want with gold? I seek only the honour of his— of—”

She stopped, fixating her eyes on what was behind them. “STOP!” she shrieked as Lucius ripped up his own sleeve. “Do not touch it, we shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now!” she strode forward toward the Snatchers. “What is that?”

“Sword,” grunted one of the Snatchers.

“Give it to me.”

“It's not yorn, Missus, it’s mine, I reckon I found it.”

There was a bang and a flash of red light. The Snatcher had been stunned. Scabior drew his wand as the other Snatchers roared angrily. 

“What d’you think you’re playing at, woman?” he spat.

 _“Stupefy!”_ she screamed. _“Stupefy!”_

They were no match for her, even though there were four of them against one of her: she was a witch with prodigious skill and no conscience. They fell where they stood, all except Greyback, who had been forced into a kneeling position, his arms outstretched. Bellatrix moved behind them and returned to be in front of them, clutching the sword of Gryffindor as though her life depended on it. Her face was waxen— she seemed quite afraid to see it here, before her. 

“Where did you get this sword?” she whispered to Greyback as she pulled his wand out of his unres isting grip.

“How dare you?” he snarled, his mouth the only thing that could move as he was forced to gaze up at her. He bared his pointed teeth. “Release me, woman!”

“Where did you find this sword?” she repeated, brandishing it in his face. “Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!”

“It was in their tent,” rasped Greyback. “Release me, I say!”

She waved her wand and the werewolf sprang to his feet, but appeared too wary to approach her. He prowled behind an armchair, his filthy, curved nails clutching its back.

“Draco, move this scum outside,” said Bellatrix, indicating the unconscious men. “If you haven’t got the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me.”

“Don’t you speak to Draco like that!” Narcissa snarled furiously.

“Be quiet!” screamed Bellatrix. “The situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem! Draco— now!”

“Let’s not forget, Bellatrix,” sneered Draco as he strode past her, “your filthy husband is the one who taught me what to do.”

“Her husband wouldn’t have had to teach you anything if you hadn’t killed mine!” shrieked Alana angrily.

Draco whirled to face her. “You, shut the bloody hell up!” He wove his wand and the doors slammed shut behind Alana, making her flinch. Another wave, and the door behind Kit and the others opened. A final wave, and the three Stunned Snatchers flew out, landing with a sickening crunch. Kit shut her eyes as three flashes of green light sailed over her head. 

She knew that Draco was doing what he was told to not arouse suspicion of wanting to help Kit, but she also knew that he was purposely making a show of strength: this was apparent in the looks on Alana and Bellatrix’s faces. He was flaunting about the fact that Rodolphus had made him stronger, and he was not to be underestimated. 

Bellatrix let out a ragged breath, glaring at Draco before looking down and muttering to herself. “If it is indeed Potter, he must not be harmed. The Dark Lord wishes to dispose of Potter himself… but if he finds out… I must… I must know…” she glared to Alana. “The prisoners must be placed in the cellar or dungeon or somewhere below! We need to think what to do!”

“This is my father’s house and therefore my house, Bella,” said Alana coolly. “Don’t give me orders. Your recommendations are all that are welcome. I will be the one to decide.”

“Then call your bloody father!” spat Bellatrix. “Kenneth would never refuse such an order from me!”

Alana narrowed her eyes. “Greyback, take all of the boys and the goblin to the cellar, as well as Alexander’s daughter— Travers will want to kill her himself, later. Kitty and the Mudblood girl will remain here so we can have a little chat with them.”

“No,” said Draco immediately. “No, absolutely—”

_“CRUCIO!”_

Draco had not been expecting Alana to be able to move so fast, and Kit gave a soft cry of shock as the spell hit, and he let out a yell of pain, though he did not fall down. “Alana!” Narcissa sneered, bringing out her own wand. “Don’t you—”

“Narcissa, you will return to your room,” Alana growled. “Don’t make me use the spell. After all, my father taught it to me so it may be of use.”

There was a moment when Kit saw pure fear in Narcissa’s eyes, and her stomach sunk. Kenneth had taught Alana the curse for mind control. Her godmother gave her a saddened look before leaving the room quickly. 

“Take me instead!” yelled Blaise as Greyback dragged the others away, all bound and unable to move, their wands out of reach.

“Oh, I’ll take you if the Mudblood dies in questioning,” said Bellatrix maliciously. “Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book. After all, Alana here will want to have a personal chat with her sister. 

The instant the others were out of the room, Lucius moved forward and grabbed Draco roughly, keeping him from using his wand. “Stay still,” Kit heard him say to his son as Bellatrix came forward and grabbed her and Hermione by the hair. 

Bellatrix shoved Kit to the floor. There was a flash of light and Kit felt that she could no longer move— her limbs had been locket together.

“Now, Mudblood,” sneered Bellatrix as she threw Hermione to the floor, pinning her down and extracting a small knife, pressing it to her throat. “Where did you get the sword?”

Hermione was paralyzed in fear. “We— I— d-didn’t—”

Hermione let out a terrible scream, writhing on the floor as Bellatrix dug the blade against her neck. “Where did you get the sword? Where?”

“We found it— we found it— PLEASE!”

“You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!” She dug the knife in deeper, dragging it along the side of her throat and making Hermione sob and scream again.

“What else did you take?” Bellatrix sneered. “What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!”

“Leave her alone— please!” cried Kit desperately as Bellatrix slid the knife further down. Blood was starting to stream out of Hermione’s neck—

“What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! _CRUCIO_!”

Hermione’s screams echoed all around the room. Kit began to tear up out of frustration— she could not move, all she could do was watch. Alana had come closer, and there was a sick smile on her face as she observed. Draco was trying to get out of Lucius’s hold, but Lucius was twisting his arms behind him at a painful angle. She could hear Blaise, Ron, Harry, and Su all yelling downstairs—

“She fainted,” sneered Bellatrix, shoving Hermione aside, blood still steadily running down her shirt. But the fear and shock had gotten to her— Hermione had never been tortured that way before, and Kit knew that now, it was her turn. “Alana, me or you?”

“I can’t be overexerting myself in this condition, Bella,” sighed Alana as if she were missing out on a fun walk in the park. “Be creative. My father will love that.”

Bellatrix held up the same knife as she had on Hermione, and sneered in Kit’s face. “You traitorous little brat… this will be your end.”

Kit let out the softest of whimpers as Bellatrix tore up her left sleeve and ripped away the bandages, showing the Dark Mark right where it should be. “This— you don’t deserve this. Now, how did you get into my vault?”

“We haven’t been in your stupid vault!” snapped Kit.

Pain. Searing, absolute, pain. This was worse than anything Kit had ever experienced and she had no idea how she didn’t immediately black out. A scream tore out of her throat and she could feel her vocal cords her being rubbed raw. She could feel Bellatrix was carving the mark off, but because it was infused with dark magic, it was causing Kit a tremendous amount of blinding pain—

“LET HER GO!” Draco bellowed. “LET HER THE BLOODY HELL GO!”

_“Crucio!”_

But the spell did not hit Kit. She heard another yell from Draco and saw him drop to his knees, body shaking as he fought like a madman to get away from his father, who was using every last bit of strength to contain him. 

“Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you sneak into my vault?” spat Bellatrix amidst Kit’s screams, not stopping once as she dragged the blade down her arm, removing the first two layers of Kit’s skin to remove the dark mark, causing crimson red blood to spill out all over the floor. “Did he?”

Kit was weak as she spoke, her voice hoarse. “No, p-please!” she begged as loudly as she could. Her ears were ringing and everything was so loud. “W-We j-just— j-just met him t-tonight—”

“TELL ME THE TRUTH!”

“LET GO OF HER!”

“ _CRUCIO!_ Lucius, if you don’t contain that boy—”

Lucius elected to slam Draco to the floor, his skull hitting the marble below with a sickening crack. Kit could not turn her face, but from her peripheral vision, which was getting blurrier by the second, she could see Draco looking at her, reaching for her—

“It’s a copy,” she moaned weakly as she stopped feeling the knife against her skin. “It’s… n-not the real s-sword… c-copy… it’s… a c-copy…”

She felt a weight lifted off of her— her vision had gone black, but Bellatrix was certainly standing again, which likely meant she’d cut the rest of her flesh off. Her entire arm was stinging— there was a prickling sensation nearer her wrist, but the mark didn’t go that far, meaning something else must have been done, but she couldn’t see or feel much of anything anymore…

“A copy?” screeched Bellatrix. “Oh, a likely story!”

“But we can find out easily!” came Lucius’s voice. “Alana, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!”

Kit was desperately hoping that the goblin had heard. That the goblin would lie, and protect them. Everything in her ears was muffled, and all she saw were black dots like a galaxy flashing before her eyes. She felt someone touching her hand but she could barely feel their hold— it must have been Draco, but she couldn't be sure.

“Well?” she heard Bellatrix snap. “Is it the true sword?”

“No,” answered the goblin. “It is a fake.”

“You are sure? Quite sure?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” breathed Bellatrix. “And now… we call the Dark Lord.”

Even though the Dark Mark no longer resided on Kit’s forearm, she let out another raw scream of pain as the burning blazed through her arm. It definitely must have been Draco holding her hand, because he squeezed so hard that she felt her fingers crack.

“And I think,” Bellatrix’s voice floated over her head, “we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her. When Kenneth arrives, he can finish off little Kit…”

“NOOOOO!”

The ground rumbled under Kit’s body. There were suddenly spells being blasted everywhere, and footsteps tearing all around her head. Someone scrambled toward her and started to pick her up, and she closed her eyes, because she couldn’t see either way. Weakly, she leaned into what certainly felt like Draco’s chest, considering Lucius’s voice now sounded off to the other end of the room. There was a loud thump and someone screamed— it sounded like Alana, and another person gave a loud growl— maybe Greyback. All Kit could hear was commotion.

Then suddenly, everything was spinning, and she lost consciousness, registering only an anguished yell coming from Draco’s mouth.


	96. Chapter 96

**Kit awoke to terrible sunlight.**

“For fuck’s sake, it’s bright,” she groaned hoarsely. She was in a room she did not recognize, and it was far too full of light for her to make out the fact that there were people around her.

“It eez alright,” came the voice of Fleur. Someone moved around and shut the drapes, and the room became more pleasant for Kit’s eyes. “You ‘ave been asleep for several days. You ‘ave to adjust to ze light again.”

Kit had to blink several times. She put her hands down on either side of her, but her left arm did her no service, and her body crumpled to the side. Someone else pulled her up— Draco.

“Hey, Kit Kat,” he said gently, taking her right hand as he helped to prop her up against the backboard of the bed.

“Where are we?” Kit asked quietly, pretending that she wasn’t feeling pain in her arm.

“Bill and Fleur Weasley’s home. Shell Cottage. We’ve been here a few days.”

Kit winced as Fleur came over and pressed a cold rag to her neck. “And I hadn’t woken up earlier?”

“No,” said Fleur gently. “You were tossing in your sleep. You ‘ad very bad dreams.”

“Oops,” said Kit sheepishly. “I hope I wasn’t bothering anymore.”

“Nonsense,” Fleur replied. “Draco ‘elped you. ‘E ‘eld you in ‘is arms and zat ‘elped you sleep in ze night.”

Draco patted her hand. “Don’t worry, Kit Kat, you didn’t disturb anyone. Just mumbled a little bit like you were having nightmares.”

Kit furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t even recall any nightmares… I just remember… nothing. Loud noises. You yelling in pain. Alana… screaming. But otherwise, nothing.”

Fleur and Draco shared a look. “I will bring ze food for you ‘ere,” offered Fleur. “Do not try to move. Zat wound on your arm needs more time to ‘eal.”

She left the room, shutting the door behind her. Kit glanced down at her bandaged arm. She lifted it slowly, flexing her fingers, which didn’t hurt, but didn’t feel as easy as it normally did. When she tried to bend it, it caused discomfort, therefore she gently set it down on her lap. “How did you all heal me?” she asked.

“Dittany and Healing Spells,” answered Draco. “Fleur knew a few, and Su did her best imitating some of the ones she’d seen you do. You’ve got a lot of scar tissue, and I don’t know how much that will heal, but it’s nothing they can’t probably fix at St. Mungo’s. You just need rest, and to ease your way into using your arm again. No heavy lifting, of course, and your bandages need to be changed so you can reapply this paste that Bill has for you.”

“Sounds easy enough.” She refrained from running her hands down the bandages, because the sudden urge to tear it off and see the damage for herself was wanting to consume her, and she had to show some restraint. “What happened, Draco? What happened to you? To everyone?”

He lay down beside her on the bed, turned on his side to face her. “The others escaped the cellar and attacked. Pott— um, I mean Harry— Harry disarmed me thinking that I was going to Stun him because my father let go of me, but I was actually aiming for Bellatrix. He’s got my wand now.”

“Huh?” said Kit. “But— but why?”

“Trust me, we were all confused. He offered it back to me when we got here but it wasn’t working for me. It was like it didn’t want me anymore. I don’t really mind, I just took the wand he was using instead, surprisingly, it’s doing a better job. It’s not like it matters what wand I have, as long as I’ve got one.”

She pursed her lips. “Alright. What happened next?”

“It was a bit difficult to keep up with everything, but spells were fired everywhere, my father was knocked out, Alana got hit with a spell and she collapsed and started screaming and holding her belly…”

“What spell hit her? Depending on what it is, she might have lost the baby.”

“I feel wrong for saying this, but I hope she did. These past months… my mother and I have been monitoring her. The dark energy around it is terrible. She’s been weak often and throwing up because the child is feeding off of her magic. It’s literally killing her, and she’s only stayed alive this far because she’s been on bedrest with as many strengthening potions as possible in her system. She’d recently been put on some vitamins, so she was stronger, but she can’t do much. That child was killing her— I don’t think she would have survived the birth. It was born under the influence of Horcruxes and dark magic and well, a father like the Dark Lord… I don’t think it was going to go well, either way.”

Kit swallowed hard. Though she felt guilty for thinking it, she hoped the child had not survived. That baby would have been born with more of a dark influence than Voldemort. “But— but how are you? You got hurt, too.”

He cast her a half-smile. “I’m fine, Kit Kat. You needn’t worry.”

“But I do. I do worry. Tell me.”

“I had a bit of a brain bleed but nothing that couldn’t easily be fixed. I got nicked with a knife but I was fine. No scar. Everyone else is fine, too. Hermione’s up and moving around. The others were virtually unharmed. Fleur’s been nursing Ollivander, but aside from that, the only one we were waiting on was you.”

She blushed. “Bloody hell, you know I hate to be the center of attention.”

“The others haven’t been allowed to see you just yet. There’s not a lot of room, so everyone is doubled up. We actually share this room with Su and Weas— Ron… Ron. Besides Fleur and I, they’ve been the only ones to see you so far. Su’s been changing your bandages and helping to keep you clean, at least, superficially until we help get you a proper bath. They’ve taken those two cots over there since you’ve been healing and needed the bed.”

Kit nodded. “You’re sure you’re alright, though?”

“Of course I am, don’t worry. It’s all thanks to Dobby. He got us out of there. Bellatrix threw a knife at me but she missed, and it scraped into my side and hit Dobby, who was Apparating us the bloody hell out of there. He was a bit ill and fragile for the first day, but he healed very well thanks to Blaise nursing him. Kreacher came to take him to Hogwarts to be looked after by the other house elves. Kreacher reported that Sirius is doing well, and he’s been communicating with someone in Hogsmeade that can help.”

“Thank Merlin,” breathed Kit. “That’s a relief. Bless Dobby. What news is there?”

“I heard them talking about the Weasley family being safe with their great aunt… Muriel, I think it was? Er— the Order checked on Su’s family. They’re fine, but her mother is worried. Andrea Zabini had her daughter, Nancy. Nice and healthy baby. Pot— Harry’s been speaking with Ollivander and Griphook, the goblin… I think he’s planning something. Ollivander left a few hours ago— Bill took him to is great aunt Muriel’s. I heard him mentioning that the Weasley twins are driving her a bit mad. And oh, Peter Pettigrew is dead, I think that’s some good news.”

“Oh, that’s certainly good,” said Kit with a small smile on her face. “He should have died long ago.”

Draco looked up at her, and leaned his head down on her shoulder. “Sure you’re feeling fine? I’ve been worried.”

“You don’t have to worry. I’m fine. Bummed out, now that I think of it, but otherwise fine.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

“All my notes,” she breathed as she leaned her head back. “All gone. I have the spell I made engraved in my mind, but if it’s not correct— if I made a mistake… well, it’d be a great risk to try it. I have nothing to go off of. I could try it on Alana the next time I see her, but I doubt it would work.”

“You are brilliant, Kit Kat,” he whispered as he brought a hand up to brush some hair out of her face. “I’ve no doubt that you created the spell correctly, and will save your sister.”

She leaned down slightly to kiss his forehead as Fleur came in with their meal— two plates of some vegetable stew. “It eez ‘ot,” she said as she set the tray on the table beside the bed. “Be careful.”

She pressed her wrist against Kit’s forehead. “You feel well?”

“Yes,” said Kit. “Thank you, Fleur, for everything. I really appreciate it.”

She smiled and smoothed her hair down gently. “Of course, Kit. We will be out in ze kitchen if you want to ‘ave a chat.”

When she was gone, Draco came to the other side of the bed to set up Kit’s plate on her lap. “Need help?”

“I think so,” she said, since her left arm was being stubborn. “I don’t want to accidentally spill.”

And so he spoonfed her, the warm bowl warming her lap comfortably as he helped her eat. The meal tasted amazing, perhaps because she’d been passed out for three days and hadn’t had anything. Or perhaps it was knowing that they were safe, and that Draco was here, with them, instead of with the Death Eaters.

“We can go out there if you’d like,” said Draco once she was done. He had begun to eat his own food, which was cold by the time he’d finished helping her. “I don’t mind. I’ve been taking every meal in here so that I can be with you.”

But Kit knew the real reason. “You don’t feel like you fit in,” she mumbled.

He bit his lip and blushed. “Everyone out there is so good. They haven’t done terrible things like I have. In these months, I’ve been forced to kill and torture. I have blood on my hands, and I’m a bad person.”

“Oh, Smok,” she sighed, putting her good hand on his cheek. “You saved me multiple times. You helped us get out of that awful place. You’ve done something selfless and risky but for the greater good, and I know that you didn’t actually want to cause harm to anyone. You’ve come here knowing that you’re betraying the Death Eaters but you’ve stayed for me. You’re here, helping us. You’re— you’re even saying Harry and Ron’s names. I’m proud of you, Draco. Baby steps, after all. Don’t force it. You’re doing so well, and I know that they see that. You are a good man and you deserve to be acknowledged as such.”

His cheeks turned pink. “You think it finally rubbed off?” he asked quietly. “You think I’m finally good?”

“I think you’ve always been good, you just needed a boost. You are not a bad person, Draco. You are a hero. And I love you.”

“And I love you, Kit Kat,” he said, tilting his head up to kiss her.

She pulled him in closer, but then gave a small wince as his body pressed against her bandaged arm. “Sorry,” Draco said quickly, moving away. “I’m sorry— I didn’t mean to.”

“Nonsense, it’s fine,” she said. Against her better judgement, she peeled off the bandages.

The sight that greeted her was terrible. Where her Dark Mark once was, there remained a reddish-pink scar that didn’t look at all pleasant. Below, carved into her skin: ‘Blood Traitor.’ 

She quickly shoved the bandages back over it, turning away. Draco took this as a sign to wrap them back the way they’d been. “We can get rid of that,” he promised. “We just need some Healers that have experience. We’ll get it off.”

Her eyes had welled up with tears. “I never… I never let it bother me before,” she whispered, not daring to look at her arm. “For years my father and his comrades have called me a blood traitor but I’d never cared. I didn’t… I didn’t mind that it was my identity. I was proud of it. And when I found out the truth about Alana, I wanted to pursue that even more, to deviate further from everything my father stood for. B-But… but…”

“...but seeing it sliced into your skin is different,” said Draco quietly. “You’re reminded of the fact that all that you’ve suffered has been because of what he labeled you as. He tormented you unjustly all because he labeled you as a blood traitor before labeling you as his daughter.”

She tried to blink the tears out of her eyes. “I-I don’t… I don’t want…”

“...to see it again,” he finished. “Don’t worry, we won’t take the bandages off until it’s healed better, and we can get that off, alright? I promise.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “C-Can we… can we go with the others? I n-need a distraction.”

“Of course. Do you want me to carry you or do you want to try and walk?”

“Try and walk first.” She tucked her left arm against her abdomen and leaned onto her right arm only as she moved her feet off the bed. She gave a tentative step against the floor with the ball of her foot, before lifting herself. She swayed, but Draco steadied her, hands protectively around her waist and keeping her upright. “A-Actually, I think I should bathe first,” she whispered, looking down at the clothes she was wearing. Still what she’d had on at Thompson Manor. She could smell dried blood on herself, the stench remaining after her three days on bedrest.

“Let me get Su and Fleur,” said Draco. “They might be able to help you better.”

“I-I don’t want to trouble them,” said Kit softly. “Can you help me?”

He nodded. “Sure, Kit Kat. Just hold steady, let me get some clothes ready.”

He moved around the room swiftly, preparing a clean set of clothes for her to put on once she was clean. He picked her up after her tucked the clothes under her arm, and carried her into the bathroom, drawing a bath for her and helping her in. He was gentle and did not make it awkward for her as he helped her wash her fragile body, avoiding the bandages. He massaged the soap into her back to grant her some relief, and did a good job of washing out her hair. He dabbed the towel carefully over her skin and held her steady as he aided her in dressing herself. He dried her hair and helped put her dirty clothes away before helping her walk back over to the kitchen, where everyone was seated at a large table. 

“Kit!” cried Su, running over and helping Draco sit her down. “Hey— how do you feel?”

“I’m fine,” she sighed as the others spouted out greetings. Draco sat down calmly beside her, but she could sense that he felt a bit awkward joining the others in a large group for what must’ve been the first time, ever.

There was a sudden bang on the front door, and they all jumped. Bill got to his feet, wand pointed at the door, and Draco followed suit, which made the others imitate him, except for Kit.

“Who is it?” Bill called. 

Amidst the howling wind, two voices sounded. “It is I, Remus John Lupin,” came the first voice. “I am a werewolf, married to Nymphadora Tonks, and you, the Secret Keeper of Shell Cottage, told me the address and bade me come in an emergency!”

“Lupin,” muttered Bill. 

“I won’t be so dramatic,” came the next voice. “Seriously, Moony, it’s not a theatre, it’s a cottage. Sirius Orion Black, owner and master of Grimmauld Place and the house-elf Kreacher. Godfather to Harry Potter and guardian of Katherine Thompson. I’m tagging along.”

“Sirius!” whispered Kit as Bill wrenched the door open. Remus and Sirius fell in over the threshold, both donning traveling cloaks. Remus looked around the room, before crying aloud, “It’s a boy! We’ve named him Ted, after Dora’s father!”

Hermione shrieked. “What—? Tonks— Tonks has had the baby?”

“Yes, and Moony here is a father,” said Sirius, clapping his best friend on the back as cries of delight and sighs of relief sounded all around the table. 

“Congratulations,” said Ron, “blimey— a baby!” It made Kit laugh, because it sounded as though he’d never heard of such a thing before, due to the tone in which he spoke. 

“Yes— yes— a boy,” said Remus, coming forward and hugging Harry, then Kit. “You’ll be godparents?”

“U-Us?” stammered Harry. 

“You, yes, of course— Dora quite agrees, no one better, a fine pair of people—”

“Of course,” said Kit happily as Sirius came around and pulled her into a hug. “I’m honored.”

“Kit,” Sirius said, kneeling in front of her. “Are you alright? What happened? We got a Patronus that you were injured—”

“I’ll be fine,” she managed, feeling happy just to see him again. “I’m so glad you’re okay…”

“And I’m glad that you’re good yourself,” Sirius said, cupping her face like he couldn't believe she was really there. He then stood and turned to Draco, who had quite awkwardly been standing off to the side. He shook his hand. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you. Kit speaks very highly of you.”

“S-She does?” he answered meekly. 

“Of course she does. I can’t say your mother was the best cousin I ever had, but you’ve grown into a fine young man, and I’m pleased that Kit is with someone as good as you.”

Draco’s cheeks turned pink as he was suddenly ambushed by attention. “Draco,” said Remus, shaking his hand as well. “It’s good to see you again.”

“H-Hello, Professor Lupin,” said Draco quietly. “Er— it is good to see you, too. Congratulations.”

Remus was so happy that he pulled him into a hug, which most definitely left Draco in a state of shock. Sirius and Remus remained behind to celebrate with some drinks, and in the meantime, they updated each other back and forth on what’d been happening. It was a short-lived but wonderful experience, to see Remus so happy and to know that he and Sirius were doing well. It seemed to bring about more healing for Kit than she could have expected.

This continued over the course of the weeks they stayed there. The process for her healing was slow but sure. The feeling was coming back more than ever, but her arm was still not responding the best it could. Kit knew that the others were planning something with the goblin, Griphook, but she did not inquire further. She knew that she was no good to them yet with her arm not at full capacity. Hermione and Su had only hinted at the fact that it had something to do with Horcruxes and Gringotts, which sounded dangerous. They were being secretive because Bill and Fleur would not be safe if they knew the truth. 

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” said Harry one night when they were all downstairs and Bill and Fleur had gone to sleep. By then, Luna and Dean were back in their respective homes, and the only ones who remained were the six who’d been hunting Horcruxes, and Draco. “It’s safer that you, Kit and Mal— Draco don’t know the whole truth, in case someone questions you. But we are going to go to Gringotts. We need something from the Lestrange vault.”

“Everything will be fine,” said Hermione reassuringly. “We’ll try and send a Patronus with a covert explanation of our whereabouts for you both to meet us there. Kit’s arm isn’t fully healed and you both are in a lot of danger if you’re seen out and about, if anything goes wrong. We just want to protect you.”

“We get it,” said Draco gently. “Thank you, at least, for letting us know this.”

The rest of the night, to their surprise, had been helped along by Draco writing down several things about Bellatrix that they needed to know before trying to enter the vault, since Hermione had hinted at the use of Polyjuice Potion since she possessed Bellatrix’s wand after what happened at Thompson Manor. 

The next day, they had left, and Kit and Draco had remained in their allotted room, pensive and worried.

“Well, at least I helped,” chimed in Draco. “They seem to trust me, now. Blaise definitely helped with that, I know he did. He won’t admit it but I know damn well he had a talk with Harry and Ron about me. All good things, I hope.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit for how amazing you are,” said Kit, laying on her side and pulling him in for a kiss. “You are the best. And I love you.”

He smiled. “I love you, Kit Kat.” He leaned in to kiss her once again, which quickly turned into a long overdue snog session.

_A/N: Steaminess warning that’ll last til the end of the chapter ;)_

It was passion like neither had experienced before. In the past, their snogs and touches were filled with warmth and love and want. This time, there was a greater aspect of desperation and worry, a fear of loss and pain that drove them to kiss and embrace in a way they hadn’t before. Between dirty words and desperate movements, their clothes came off, and neither one asked the other to stop. They knew that this could be their last chance, though they hoped it wasn’t, and that there was nothing in the world they wanted more than each other. 

“Now,” whispered Draco as he started to kiss down her neck and towards her bare chest. “Be a good girl and stay quiet. We may be alone in this room, but we’re not alone in this cottage.”

Kit was hazy with lust, and it had been difficult to remain quiet when what she wanted to do was cry out, not caring if the entire world knew how good he made her feel as he moved down along her body, pressing his lips and dragging his tongue across unspeakable places that left her back arching off the bed and her mouth whispering out profanities and wanton statements of her needs. He was kissing and licking and biting in all the right places, leaving the types of marks that further fueled her desire to have him completely. 

They’d never had to feel awkward with each other. Like waves on the shore, their intimate encounters could be rough or tender, but overall bearing an effortless flow. They’d known each other their entire lives and trusted each other more than anyone. It was natural and right and they knew without needing to inquire, exactly what would make the other twitch with pleasure.

Her nails dug into his shoulder as he moved her parted her legs, teeth sinking carefully against her waist and sending shivers up her spine that made her let out the quietest of moans. She glanced down at him, and his eyes were darkened with desire, warning her to not allow her noises to draw attention to them. 

She loved how he took control because even though he commanded her, he always made it his priority to bring her pleasure first and foremost. He dominated her because when she submitted, every last movement and touch ignited on her skin like a blissful fire. He made her feel safe and seen and loved, demanding only her obedience because he loved to be in control of how he made her feel. He loved to see how her face scrunched up and hear how she cried out because of him. 

There was no stopping. He locked her in a gentle hold when they finally came together at last, muffling her noises with his mouth and caressing her body through the brief pain that she felt near the beginning. 

It was a beautiful sight— her writhing beneath him, whispering frantically in his ear for more. Her nails dug into his muscled back, legs tight around his waist to keep him close to her as he moved incessantly, making her moan as quietly as she dared, though she really wished to scream from the satisfaction it brought her. 

Instead, she had to settle for quietly begging him to unleash, because he was being far too gentle with her, and she knew she could take more. When he had, it’d left them both exhausted and in a state of intoxication. There was nothing better in the world. He was perfect for her, and she was perfect for him. 

His body shook on top of her from how much he exerted himself. He supported the weight of himself on his elbows as he looked over her face, pink and drenched in sweat, her eyes closed and mouth ajar as she let out another series of moans, her core throbbing. Seeing her like that only exhilarated him. 

“Are you alright?” she panted, feeling his heart beating savagely inside his chest as he rested against hers. They had yet to disconnect— they didn’t want to. It had felt far too good. When he didn’t immediately answer, she leaned into his ear, calling him by his newly discovered preferred name for when they were in their passionate throes from hereon out. 

“M’fine,” he answered, cheeks red. “But are you alright, princess?” He feared he’d hurt her, despite how much she’d pleaded for him not to hold back. 

She cast him a weak and exhausted smile. “M’fine,” she answered, pulling him in for a soft kiss. He used the last bit of his strength to move them so that she was on top of him, her head resting against his chest, listening as his heart slowed itself down. 

They were so tired, they fell asleep that way. 

_Credits to[Penguinflops34](https://www.quotev.com/Penguinflops34) for the idea of having ‘Blood Traitor’ carved into Kit’s arm, and to [Lucyana Gordon](https://www.quotev.com/LucyanaGordon) for the recommendation of Kit and Draco’s steamy scene in this chapter :) (Both are on Quotev). _


	97. Chapter 97

**They were awoken by a Patronus.**

They had sprang apart and gotten dressed as the silvery otter burst out with Blaise’s voice. “Apparate carefully to where we had our DA Informational Meeting.”

“The Hog’s Head,” panted Kit as she got her wand, now fully dressed. “Time to go.”

Draco wove his wand to clean up the room, and the two went out to find Fleur and Bill were talking in the kitchen. “We have to go,” said Draco. “Thank you, so much, for everything. We’ll pay you back in any way we can, once we get the money.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Bill kindly as they came over and hugged them. “Stay safe.”

Draco had taken Kit’s hand, and they’d stepped just outside the door before he Apparated them right into the Hog’s Head, where they found the barman looking quite annoyed. They weren’t the only ones who’d just arrived.

“Cho!” cried Kit, seeing that Cho Chang was with Ginny, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan. “All of you— wow—”

“We got told Harry’s here,” said Ginny as she looked sideways at Draco. “Aberforth here has a passage to help us get into the Room of Requirement.”

“Abertforth Dumbledore,” said the barman gruffly as a portrait behind him of a young girl opened up. “In you go, all of you, hurry up. Seems we got more folks that’ll be coming…”

Ginny went first, followed by her brothers, then Lee, and Cho, who squeezed Kit’s hand reassuringly. Draco followed last, and they appeared on the other end of the tunnel, right in the heart of the Room of Requirement.

Ginny ran forward to Harry, who took her into his arms as the whole room burst into greeting at the new arrivals. Kit was ambushed by Terry and Anthony, who both looked unchanged, yet so much older. 

“We thought we lost you,” Terry whispered. “Don’t you ever leave us like that again.”

“Next time, come with me,” said Kit playfully. “We’ll go on a vacation to a tropical island.”

“I’d very much like that,” Anthony laughed, offering his hand to Draco’s to shake. It seemed that everyone already somehow knew that Draco was offering his help to their side. 

Another person crashed into Kit, and she was shocked to see that it was Mimi. 

“Kit,” she breathed, hugging her tightly. “I’m— I’m so sorry— I never said anything, and you just disappeared…”

Kit patted her back gently. If this was to culminate in battle, there was no reason for her to hold a grudge. “I missed you too, Mimi,” she said softly.

“Aberforth’s getting a bit ratty,” Fred announced, holding up his fake DA Galleon. “His bar’s turning into a railway station…”

“So what’s the plan, Harry?” said George as Draco took Kit’s hand and led her off to the side where there wouldn’t be so many people. 

“There isn’t one,” said Harry bluntly, looking disoriented by everyone crying their greetings to him from every angle.

“Just going to make it up as we go along, are we?” said Fred. “My favorite kind.”

“We’re fighting, aren’t we?” said Dean Thomas, who had just arrived through the passageway. “The message said Harry was back, and we were going to fight! I’ll have to get a wand, though—”

“You haven’t got a wand—?” Seamus said. 

“All right,” Harry said at last, looking around. “Okay—” the noise ceased, and everyone looked over at him expectantly. “There’s something we need to find. Something— something that’ll help us overthrow You-Know-Who. It’s here at Hogwarts, but we don’t know where. It might have belonged to Ravenclaw. Has anyone heard of an object like that? Has anyone ever come across something with her eagle on it, for instance?”

“Her diadem,” said Kit bluntly, her fellow Ravenclaws nodding in agreement. “But it’s a lost diadem.”

“It was lost centuries ago,” Cho said sadly. “Professor Flitwick says the diadem vanished with Ravenclaw herself. People have looked but nobody’s ever found a trace of it, have they?”

“Sorry, but what is a diadem?” asked Ron.

“It’s a kind of crown,” offered Terry. “Ravenclaw’s was supposed to have magical properties— enhance the wisdom of the wearer.”

“And none of you have ever seen what it looks like?” asked Harry worriedly.

“It’s on her statue,” said Anthony. “In our common room.”

Harry nodded, though he winced, and Kit sensed his scar was likely hurting. He waved her over, and she and Draco went to join right as he whispered to Hermione, Ron, Su, and Blaise. “Listen, I know it’s not much of a lead, but I’m going to go and look at this statue, at least find out what the diadem looks like. Wait for me here and keep, you know— the other one— safe.”

“I can take you,” offered Kit. “Luna can come with us— I think she knows more about Ravenclaw than the rest of us.”

“Perfect,” said Harry, waving Luna over. Draco let go of Kit’s hand. “Be safe, alright?” he said worriedly. “Don’t do anything rash.”

“We’ll be alright,” she promised as Harry turned to Neville. “How do we get out?”

“Over here,” said Neville, leading them to a small cupboard in the corner that opened onto a steep staircase. “It comes out somewhere different every day, so they’ve never been able to find it. Only trouble is, we never know exactly where we’re going to end up when we go out. Be careful, Harry, they’re always patrolling the corridors at night.”

“No problem,” said Harry. “See you in a bit.”

Luna and Kit moved up the staircase, which was long, and lit by torches. It turned corners in very unexpected places, but at last, they reached a solid wall. “Get under here,” said Harry, tossing the Invisibility Cloak over them. They emerged from the wall, which had melted away at their touch, and ended up in a dark corridor. Harry extracted the Marauder’s Map. “We’re up on the fifth floor,” he whispered to the two girls. “Come on, this way.”

They crept off at full speed. Harry beckoned for Kit and Luna to lead the way, because after all, that was their Common Room, and they knew every shortcut to it. When they reached the eagle knocker, it spoke.

“Which came first, the phoenix or the flame?”

“In the sentence, the phoenix,” said Kit.

“Ooh, but a circle has no beginning,” chimed in Luna.

“Well reasoned,” the eagle told them as they went in. Harry looked confused— he’d never known that this was how the Ravenclaws got into their Common Room.

The circular room was deserted, and the girls immediately led him toward the tall statue of white marble. Harry climbed out from under the Cloak and to the plinth to read the words engraved on the diadem. “‘Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure,’” he murmured. 

“Which makes you pretty skint, witless,” came a cackling voice that send chills down Kit’s spine. Still under the Cloak, she and Luna turned to see Alecto Carrow just as she brought her forefinger to the Dark Mark on her forearm.

That incapacitated Kit and Harry immediaetly. His scar had practically lit him on fire, and though all that remained on Kit’s arm was a scar, it felt like she was being grazed with a rough stone.

But the pain did not last. Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and Alecto hit the ground so hard that the glass in the bookcases tinkled.

“I’ve never Stunned anyone except in our DA lessons,” Luna said vaguely, lowering her wand. “That was noisier than I thought it would be.”

It had certainly attracted attention. Kit heard the familiar footsteps of other Ravenclaws coming over to the Common Room. Kit yanked Harry back under the cloak as several Ravenclaws in their night clothes looked at the unconscious Alecto. Slowly, they shuffled in around her, a savage beast that might wake at any moment and attack them. Then one brave little first year darted up to her and prodded her backside with his big toe.

“I think she might be dead!” he shouted with delight.

“Oh, look,” whispered Luna happily, as the Ravenclaws crowded in around Alecto. “They’re pleased!”

“I am, too,” whispered back Kit. 

There was a rap on the common-room door and every Ravenclaw froze. From the other side, the eagle doorknocker spoke: “Where do vanished objects go?”

“I dunno, do I? Shut it!” snarled the uncouth voice of Amycus Carrow. “Alecto? Alecto? Are you there? Have you got him? Open the door!”

The Ravenclaws were whispering amongst themselves, terrified. Then, without warning, there came a series of loud bangs, as though somebody was firing a series of spells into the door.

“ALECTO! If he comes, and we haven’t got Potter— d’you want to go the same way as the Malfoys? ANSWER ME!” Amycus bellowed. The Ravenclaws were all backing away, and some of the most frightened began scampering back up the staircase to their beds. 

“May I ask what you are doing, Professor Carrow?” came the familiar voice of Professor McGonagall.

“Trying— to get— through this damned— door!” shouted Amycus. “Go and get Flitwick! Get him to open it, now!”

“But isn’t your sister in there?” asked Professor McGonagall. “Didn’t Professor Flitwick let her in, earlier this evening, at your urgent request? Perhaps she could open the door for you? Then you needn’t wake up half the castle.”

“She ain’t answering, you old besom! You open it! Garn! Do it, now!”

“Certainly, if you wish it,” said Professor McGonagall, with awful coldness. There was a tap, and the eagle asked again, “Where do vanished objects go?”

“Into non-being, which is to say, everything,” replied Professor McGonagall. 

“Nicely phrased,” replied the eagle doorknocker, and the door swung open.

The few Ravenclaws who had remained behind sprinted for the stairs as Amycus burst over the threshold, brandishing his wand. His tiny eyes fell at once on Alecto, sprawled motionless on the floor. He let out a yell of fury and fear. “What’ve they done, the little whelps?” he screamed. “I’ll Cruciate the lot of ’em ’til they tell me who did it— and what’s the Dark Lord going to say? We haven’t got him, and they’ve gorn and killed her!”

“She’s only Stunned,” said Professor McGonagall impatiently, who had stooped down to examine Alecto. “She’ll be perfectly all right.”

“No she bludgering well won’t!” bellowed Amycus. “Not after the Dark Lord gets hold of her! She’s gorn and sent for him, I felt me Mark burn, and he thinks we’ve got Potter!”

“Got Potter?” said Professor McGonagall sharply. “What do you mean, ‘got Potter?’”

“He told us Potter might try and get inside Ravenclaw Tower, and to send for him if we caught him!”

“Why would Harry Potter try to get inside Ravenclaw Tower? Potter belongs in my house!”

“We was told he might come in here!” said Carrow. “I dunno why, do I?” His pig-like face became craftly. “We can push it off on the kids. Yeah, that’s what we’ll do. We’ll say Alecto was ambushed by the kids, them kids up there, and we’ll say they forced her to press her Mark, and that’s why he got a false alarm… he can punish them. Couple of kids more or less, what’s the difference?”

“Only the difference between truth and lies, courage and cowardice,” said Professor McGonagall, who had turned pale, “a difference, in short, which you and your sister seem unable to appreciate. But let me make one thing very clear. You are not going to pass off your many ineptitudes on the students of Hogwarts. I shall not permit it.”

“Excuse me?” Amycus moved forwards until he was offensively close to Professor McGonagall, his face within inches of hers. “It’s not a case of what you’ll permit, Minerva McGonagall. Your time’s over. It’s us what’s in charge here now, and you’ll back me up or you’ll pay the price.”

And he spat in her face.

Immediately, Harry dove out from under the Cloak, raised his wand, and said, “You shouldn’t have done that.” As Amycus spun around. Harry shouted, “Crucio!”

The Death Eater was lifted off his feet. He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain, and then, with a crunch and a shattering of glass, he smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumpled, insensible, to the floor.

“I see what Bellatrix meant,’” said Harry coldly, “you need to really mean it.”

“Potter!” whispered Professor McGonagall, clutching her heart. “Potter— you’re here! What—? How—? Potter, that was foolish!” 

“He spat at you,” said Harry.

“Potter, I— that was very— very gallant of you— but don’t you realise—?”

“Yeah, I do,” Harry assured her. “Professor McGonagall, Voldemort’s on the way.”

“Oh, are we allowed to say the name now?” asked Luna with an air of interest, pulling off the Invisibility Cloak from herself and Kit, which certainly started McGonagall.

“I don’t think it makes any difference what we call him,” Harry told Luna, “he already knows where I am.”

“You must flee,” whispered Professor McGonagall. “Now, Potter, as quickly as you can!”

“I can’t,” said Harry. “There’s something I need to do. Professor, do you know where the diadem of Ravenclaw is?”

“The d-diadem of Ravenclaw? Of course not— hasn’t it been lost for centuries? Potter, it was madness, utter madness, for you to enter this castle—”

“I had to,” said Harry. “Professor, there’s something hidden here that I’m supposed to find, and it could be the diadem— if I could just speak to Professor Flitwick—”

There was a sound of movement, of clinking glass: Amycus was coming round. Immediately, Kit cut her wand into the air, and thick ropes of silver wrapped both Carrows in place. Another wave, and their wands flew to her. She handed them to Professor McGonagall, who pocketed them and turned gravely to Harry. “Potter, if He Who Must Not Be Names does indeed know that you are here—”

He staggered and clutched Kit’s shoulder as he spoke, his hand flying to his scar. “Harry!” she said worriedly. “Time’s running out— he must be getting closer.”

“Professor,” managed Harry. “I’m acting on Dumbledore’s orders, I must find what he wanted me to find! But we’ve got to get the students out while I’m searching the castle— it’s me Voldemort wants, but he won’t care about killing a few more or less, not now—”

“You’re acting on Dumbledore’s orders?” she repeated, before straightening up. “We shall secure the school against He Who Must Not Be Named while you search for this— this object.’

“Is that possible?”

“I think so,” said Professor McGonagall drily, “we teachers are rather good at magic, you know. I am sure we will be able to hold him off for a while if we all put our best efforts into it. Of course, something will have to be done about Professor Snape, and if Hogwarts is about to enter a state of siege, with the Dark Lord at the gates, it would indeed be advisable to take as many innocent people out of the way as possible. With the Floo Network under observation and Apparition impossible within the grounds—”

“There’s a way,” said Kit immediately. “The Hog’s Head. There’s a passageway connected to the Room of Requirement!”

“Thompson, we’re talking about hundreds of students –’

“I know, Professor, but if the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters are concentrating on the school boundaries they won’t be interested in anyone who’s Disapparating out of the Hog’s Head.”

“There’s something in that,” she agreed. She pointed her wand at the Carrows, and a silver net fell upon their bound bodies, tied itself around them and hoisted them into the air, where they dangled beneath the blue and gold ceiling. “Come. We must alert the other Heads of House. You’d better put that Cloak back on.”

She marched towards the door, and as she did so she raised her wand. From the tip burst three silver cats with spectacle markings around their eyes. The Patronuses ran sleekly ahead, filling the spiral staircase with silvery lights, as Professor McGonagall, Harry, Kit, and Luna hurried back down.

Along the corridors they raced, and one by one the Patronuses left them. They had descended two more floors when another set of quiet footsteps joined theirs. McGonagall halted, raised her wand ready to duel, and said, “Who’s there?”

“It is I,” said a low voice. From behind a suit of armour stepped Severus Snape. “Where are the Carrows?”

“Wherever you told them to be, I expect, Severus,” said Professor McGonagall.

“I was under the impression,” said Snape, “that Alecto had apprehended an intruder.”

“Really?” said Professor McGonagall. “And what gave you that impression?”

Snape made a slight flexing movement of his left arm, where the Dark Mark was branded into his skin.

“Oh, but naturally,” said Professor McGonagall. “You Death Eaters have your own private means of communication, I forgot.”

Snape pretended not to have heard her. “I did not know that it was your night to patrol the corridors, Minerva.”

“You have some objection?”

“I wonder what could have brought you out of your bed at this late hour?”

“I thought I heard a disturbance,” said Professor McGonagall.

“Really? But all seems calm.” Snape looked into her eyes. “Have you seen Harry Potter, Minerva? Because if you have, I must insist—”

Professor McGonagall moved faster than Kit could have believed: her wand slashed through the air and for a split second she thought that Snape must crumple, unconscious, but the swiftness of his Shield Charm was such that McGonagall was thrown off balance. She brandished her wand at a torch on the wall and it flew out of its bracket, becoming a ring of fire that filled the corridor and flew like a lasso at Snape— 

Then it was no longer fire, but a great, black serpent that McGonagall blasted to smoke, which reformed and solidified in seconds to become a swarm of pursuing daggers: Snape avoided them only by forcing the suit of armour in front of him, and with echoing clangs the daggers sank, one after another, into its breast— 

“Minerva!” said a squeaky voice, and looking behind them as they staggered back to be shielded from the spells. Professors Flitwick and Sprout sprinting up the corridor towards them in their nightclothes, with the enormous Professor Slughorn panting along at the rear.

“No!” squealed Flitwick, raising his wand. “You’ll do no more murder at Hogwarts!”

Flitwick’s spell hit the suit of armour behind which Snape had taken shelter: with a clatter it came to life. Snape struggled free of the crushing arms and sent it flying back towards his attackers: Harry, Kit, and Luna had to dive sideways to avoid it as it smashed into the wall and shattered. Snape was in full flight, McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout all thundering after him: Snape hurtled through a classroom door and, moments later, they heard McGonagall cry, “Coward! COWARD!”

“What’s happened, what’s happened?” asked Luna.

Harry dragged the girls to their feet and they raced along the corridor, trailing the Invisibility Cloak behind them, into the deserted classroom where Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout were standing at a smashed window.

“He jumped,” said Professor McGonagall, as the three joined them in the room.

“You mean he’s dead?” Harry sprinted to the window, ignoring Flitwick and Sprout’s yells of shock at his sudden appearance.

“No, he’s not dead,” said McGonagall bitterly. “Unlike Dumbledore, he was still carrying a wand... and he seems to have learned a few tricks from his master.”

In the distance, a huge, bat-like shape was flying through the darkness towards the perimeter wall. There were heavy footfalls behind them, and a great deal of puffing: Slughorn had just caught up.

“Harry!” he panted. “My dear boy... what a surprise... Minerva, do please explain... Severus... what...?”

“Our Headmaster is taking a short break,” said Professor McGonagall, pointing at the Snape-shaped hole in the window.

“Professor!” Harry shouted, his hands at his forehead. “Professor, we’ve got to barricade the school, he’s coming now!”

“Very well. He Who Must Not Be Named is coming,” she told the other teachers. Sprout and Flitwick gasped; Slughorn let out a low groan. “Potter has work to do in the castle on Dumbledore’s orders. We need to put in place every protection of which we are capable, while Potter does what he needs to do.”

“You realise, of course, that nothing we do will be able to keep out You-Know-Who indefinitely?” squeaked Flitwick, looking over as Kit and Luna let the Invisibility Cloak hang loosely over their shoulders. He seemed surprised and happy to see them.

“But we can hold him up,” said Professor Sprout.

“Thank you, Pomona,” said Professor McGonagall. “I suggest we establish basic protection around the place, then gather our students and meet in the Great Hall. Most must be evacuated, though if any of those who are over age wish to stay and fight, I think they ought to be given the chance.”

“Agreed,” said Professor Sprout, already hurrying towards the door. “I shall meet you in the Great Hall in twenty minutes with my house.”

“I can act from here,” said Flitwick, and although he could barely see out of it, he pointed his wand through the smashed window and started muttering incantations of great complexity. Kit heard a weird rushing noise, as though Flitwick had unleashed the power of the wind into the grounds.

Harry, Luna, and Kit were sent back to their group, awaiting them in the Room of Requirement, and had been instructed to bring them to the Great Hall while the Professors split to get the students in their Houses and cast protective spells all over. Shouts of surprise followed at the sight of Kit and especially Harry, but they did not look back. They arrived to the Room of Requirement and found the Order had arrived, a long with several other students who had graduated in past years, who’d been part of the DA.

“Kit!” cried Roger Davies, lunging forward and pulling her into a hug. Behind him was his elder brother Chester, who was around the same age as Andrea Zabini, though Kit knew not to expect Andrea to waltz through the passageway at any moment.

Even Percy Weasley had arrived, muttering several apologies to his family. Kit greeted everyone hastily, running to find Draco, but he was nowhere in sight.

“Malfoy and Blaise went to help evacuate students,” piped up Terry as he and Anthony started to get everyone to mark down whether they had wands or not. “Hermione, Ron, and Su said something about a bathroom. Dunno what the hell that means, but—”

“Thank you, Terry,” breathed Kit, rubbing the back of her head. “Alright— well, everyone’s got to meet in the Great Hall. He’s almost here.”


	98. Chapter 98

**The Great Hall was soon filled with people, and to Kit’s relief, Draco.**

“Sorry,” he panted. “Blaise and I went back to tell Aberforth about the evacuation plan and I didn’t get to tell you.”

“It’s alright,” she said. “It’s better you stay over there, anyway. It’s not safe for you to be seen out and about when the Death Eaters arrive. You have your Apparition license, and you better use it to get those kids to safety.” 

He smiled. “Yes, I promise I will.” He pulled her in for a kiss. “I love you. Stay safe, no matter where you are.”

“...evacuation will be overseen by Mr. Filch and Madam Pomfrey,” McGonagall was saying at the front. “Prefects, when I give the word, you will organise your house and take your charges, in an orderly fashion, to the evacuation point.”

Many of the students looked petrified. However, Ernie Macmillan stood up at the Hufflepuff table and shouted, “And what if we want to stay and fight?”

There was a smattering of applause.

“If you are of age, you may stay,” said Professor McGonagall.

“What about our things?” called Orla Quirke at the Ravenclaw table. “Our trunks, our owls?”

“We have no time to collect possessions,” said Professor McGonagall. “The important thing is to get you out of here safely.”

“Where’s Professor Snape?” shouted a girl from the Slytherin table.

“He has, to use the common phrase, done a bunk,” replied Professor McGonagall, and a great cheer erupted from the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. “We have already placed protection around the castle, but it is unlikely to hold for very long unless we reinforce it. I must ask you, therefore, to move quickly and calmly, and do as your prefects—”

But her final words were drowned as a different voice echoed throughout the Hall. It was high, cold and clear: there was no telling from where it came; it seemed to issue from the walls themselves. Like the monster it had once commanded, it might have lain dormant there for centuries.

“I know that you are preparing to fight,” came the terrible voice of Voldemort. There were screams amongst the students, some of whom clutched each other, looking around in terror for the source of the sound. “Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood.”

There was silence in the Hall now, the kind of silence that presses against the eardrums, that seems too huge to be contained by walls.

“Give me Harry Potter,” said Voldemort’s voice, “and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight.”

The silence swallowed them all again. Every head turned, every eye in the place seemed to have found Harry, to hold him frozen in the glare of thousands of invisible beams. 

Kit took this opportunity to stand up on the table. “If anyone even thinks of handing him over,” she said loudly, “I’ll hex you myself.”

“Thank you, Miss Thompson,” said Professor McGonagall. “Slytherin House, follow Mr. Filch out. After, Ravenclaw…”

Slowly, the four tables emptied. The Slytherin table was completely deserted, with Blaise and Draco having been standing closer to Kit. Everyone in Kit’s year was still at the Ravenclaw table, including Roger, Norman, Orion, and the other older graduates that’d been on the Quidditch team with her: Duncan Inglebee, Jason Samuels, and Grant Page. Chester Davies had brought his girlfriend, who Kit did not recognize. Even more Hufflepuffs had stayed behind, and half the Gryffindors remained in their seats, though many were underage. Draco and Blaise had to go pick out whoever was not seventeen and lead them away by the scruffs of their robes to the evacuation area.

Kingsley stepped forwards on the raised platform to address anyone who remained behind. “We’ve only got half an hour until midnight, so we need to act fast! A battle plan has been agreed between the teachers of Hogwarts and the Order of the Phoenix. Professors Flitwick, Sprout and McGonagall are going to take groups of fighters up to the three highest Towers— Ravenclaw, Astronomy and Gryffindor— where they’ll have a good overview, excellent positions from which to work spells. Meanwhile, Remus,” he indicated Lupin, “Arthur,” he pointed towards Mr. Weasley, sitting at the Gryffindor table, “and I will take groups into the grounds. We’ll need somebody to organise defence of the entrances of the passageways into the school—”

“—sounds like a job for us,” called Fred, indicating himself, George, and Lee. 

Kingsley nodded. “All right, leaders up here and we’ll divide up the troops!”

“Kit,” said Sirius, coming over from the Gryffindor Table as well. “I think you and I should go and get Alana.”

“You reckon?” she said nervously, looking back and seeing Harry had now exited the Great Hall. Ron, Su, and Hermione were still nowhere in sight.

“Yes. We’ll need her on our side if anything. Are you willing to go out into the grounds to fight?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, I am. I think I have to. Draw their focus away from Harry… but maybe we should go up to one of the towers first. See what it looks like from above. If she’s even going to be here. We don’t know if she managed to give birth or not. If she lost it, she’ll most definitely be here. If she didn’t, she’ll certainly be at home.”

They went off running toward Ravenclaw Tower with Professor Flitwick and the majority of the Ravenclaws in Kit’s year. The older boys had followed Kingsley out onto the grounds already to form a resistance. There were yells near the border— the Death Eaters were there and they were ready to fight.

It was dreadful to wait. Kit and Sirius distracted themselves by following Flitwick’s orders and casting out the most massive protective spells Kit had ever seen, all in a group to fortify. They were creating a sort of screen in front of the towers where they could peek out, and almost zoom in to what would soon be occurring below. 

But soon enough, there were angry shouts, screams, and the sound of spells being fired. The battle had begun at exactly midnight, and Kit could see that all the figures below were charging. She clutched her wand tight as she and the other students started to fire explosive spells nearer to the edge of the school where the Death Eaters were coming in. The night was dark except for the stars, the moon, and the light being blasted back and forth— jets of red, green, purple, and others, which made Kit’s heart rate accelerate nervously. 

There was a roaring sound, and Kit could see that there were giants. Giants coming over the walls and into the school, aiding the Death Eaters.

“Bloody fucking hell,” huffed Sirius. “Those blokes are big. _Bombarda_!”

He fired another explosion right into the hoard of giants, though they were much more difficult to take down compared to other creatures. Kit could hear rustling and cries of creatures in the forest— either they were being mobilized to fight with them, or against them. She really hoped they wouldn’t think to aid the Death Eaters. 

“I see her,” said Sirius suddenly, between blocking a spell aimed right for the tower beside them. “I see her— Kit!”

Kit’s body careened over the balcony. Near the frontlines was Alana, with a furious expression. Beside her was Kenneth, brandishing a bruise on his eye, and his wand. 

“Crap,” hissed Kit. “Crap— I forgot he’d be near her! Sirius, I need to find the others before we do anything— we have to know how it’s going with our special task.”

“I’m going down to the grounds,” said Sirius. “I need to go get her.”

“Sirius, wait—” 

But he had tore off, ducking down hallways faster than Kit had seen a person move. He must have felt this was his last chance, and being a Marauder, he knew the school well enough to find a way to get to her faster.

Kit swore loudly, which startled Mimi, who’d teamed up with Stephen Cornfoot and Kevin Entwhistle to create a tornado near the back end of the school, threatening to swallow the Death Eaters. Kit couldn’t wait much longer up there. She sprinted back down the hall, and just as she was turning a corner, ran right into Harry, the two knocking the other back and onto the ground.

“Where the hell have you been?” hissed Kit.

“Speaking with the Grey Lady!” he cried. “Where have— Ron!”

They got to their feet and whirled around to see Ron, Hermione, and Su running toward them, their arms full of large, curved, dirty yellow objects. Ron and Su each had broomsticks under their arms.

“Where the hell have you been?” snapped Kit.

“Chamber of Secrets,” said Ron.

“What?” cried Harry and Kit. 

“It was all Ron’s idea!” said Su breathlessly, her cheeks pink as she beamed up at him. “It was brilliant! Hermione and I were asking him about how we’d even get rid of the Horcrux because we still hadn’t gotten rid of the cup, and then he thought of it! The Basilisk!”

“What the—?” Harry began.

“Something to get rid of Horcruxes,” said Ron simply.

The dirty objects in their arms turned out to be the Basilisk’s teeth. Kit had never seen it, but she could imagine with teeth that size, it’d been massive. “But— how did you get in?” said Kit in awe. “You need to speak Parseltongue, don’t you?”

Hermione and Su squealed. “Show them, Ron!”

Ron made a horrible, strangled hissing noise. “It’s what you did to open the locket,” he told Harry apologetically. “I had to have a few goes to get it right, but we got there in the end.”

“Bloody hell,” said Kit with a smirk on her face. “You’re almost bilingual!”

“Shut up, Kit,” said Ron modestly, his cheeks tinted pink as Su tiptoed to kiss his cheek.

“So we’re another Horcrux down,” said Hermione eagerly, holding up the mangled remains of Hufflepuff’s cup, which was what they’d apparently retrieved from the Lestrange vault. “They said it was my turn to stab it, and I did!”

“Genius!” yelled Harry.

“It was nothing,” said Ron, though he looked delighted with himself. “So what’s new with you?”

As he said it, there was an explosion from overhead: all five of them looked up as dust fell from the ceiling and they heard a distant scream.

“Well, Sirius and I were looking for Alana,” said Kit, “to get her out of the spell and on our side. I really don’t know if my plan will work but we’ve got to try.”

“And I know what the diadem looks like and where it is,” Harry added quickly. “He hid it exactly where I hid my old Potion’s book where everyone’s been hiding stuff for centuries. He thought he was the only one to find it.”

“That’s where Draco and I worked on the Vanishing Cabinet!” said Kit. “I can conjure up that room— come on, we need to make sure the Room of Requirement is empty!”

As the walls trembled again, Harry led the four of them back through the concealed entrance and down the staircase into the Room of Requirement. It was empty except for five people: Ginny, Tonks, Blaise, Draco, and an elderly witch wearing a moth-eaten hat, whom must’ve been Neville’s grandmother.

“Ah, Potter,” she said crisply, as if she had been waiting for him. “You can tell us what’s going on.”

“Is everyone okay?” said Ginny and Tonks together.

“As far as we know,” said Harry. “Are there still people in the passage to the Hog’s Head?”

“No,” answered Draco. “Mrs. Longbottom was the last to come through. She sealed it it because Aberforth is in the castle now. Everyone’s been evacuated— Blaise and I made sure to get them somewhere safe, several of their wizard parents took it from there when they found their children.”

“Have you seen my grandson?” asked Mrs. Longbottom as Blaise moved forward toward Hermione.

“He’s fighting,” said Harry.

“Naturally,” said the old woman proudly. “Excuse me, I must go and assist him.” With surprising speed, she trotted off towards the stone steps. 

The group looked at Tonks. “I thought you were supposed to be with Teddy at your mother’s,” said Kit.

“I couldn’t stand not knowing,” she said in a strained voice. “She’ll look after him— have you seen Remus?”

“He’s leading a group of fighters into the grounds—”

Without another word, Tonks sped off.

“Ginny,” said Harry, “I’m sorry, but we need you to leave too. Just for a bit. Then you can come back in.”

Ginny looked simply delighted to leave her sanctuary.

“And then you can come back in!” he shouted after her, as she ran up the steps after Tonks. “You’ve got to come back in!”

“Hang on,” said Blaise, holding up his fingers. “We got the underage students, we got the fighters, Hagrid went to speak to the creatures in the forest, we’re only missing the house elves, they’ll still be in here, and maybe we should give them a heads up so that we can let them go somewhere safe—”

Hermione cut him off with the firmest kiss that Kit had ever witnessed between her and Blaise, dropping the basilisk fangs all over the floor. Draco and Harry shared a look, then quickly looked away, not sure why they were briefly each other’s comfort person for the awkwardness that arose from the scene.

Blaise pulled back in surprise. “Er— want to go with me to warn them?” he asked her.

“Yes!” she said. “Come on, let’s go— they can handle the rest—”

She pulled him out of the room. “Let’s get the diadem, then,” said Kit. “Everyone out— come on. Draco, help me, we’ve got to imagine the room as it was when we were working on the Vanishing Cabinet…”

It was clear, as the five of them stepped back into the corridor upstairs, that in the minutes that they had spent in the Room of Requirement the situation within the castle had deteriorated severely: the walls and ceiling were shaking worse than ever; dust filled the air and through the nearest window they saw bursts of green and red light so close to the foot of the castle that he knew the Death Eaters must be very near to entering the place. 

Ginny and Tonks both had their wands drawn at the next window, which was missing several panes. Ginny was sending several well-aimed jinxes into a crowd of fighters below.

“Good girl!” roared a figure running through the dust towards them, and Kit saw Aberforth again, his grey hair flying as he led a small group of students past. “They look like they might be breaching the North Battlements, they’ve brought giants of their own!”

“We saw!” said Kit. “There’s about four of them in the frontlines!”

“Thanks for the information!” said Aberforth.

“Have you seen Remus?” Tonks called after him.

“He was duelling Dolohov,” shouted Aberforth, “haven’t seen him since!”

“Tonks,” said Ginny, “Tonks, I’m sure he’s okay—”

But Tonks had run off into the dust after Aberforth. Ginny turned, helpless, to the others.

“They’ll be all right,” said Harry. “Ginny, we’ll be back in a moment, just keep out of the way, keep safe— come on!”

They moved a bit down the hall then returned, both Draco and Kit thinking hard of the room they needed. When the door to the Room of Requirement appeared for them, the cathedral sized room of random objects greeted them.

 _“Accio diadem!”_ said Kit, but nothing flew towards them. 

“Let’s split up,” Harry said. “Ron and Su— that way. Kit and M— Draco, with me, around this way. Look for a stone bust of an old man wearing a wig and a tiara! It’s standing on a cupboard and it’s definitely somewhere near here…”

They sped off up adjacent aisles. Kit could hear the others’ footsteps echoing through the towering piles of junk, of bottles, hats, crates, chairs, books, weapons, broomsticks, bats…

“Just keep moving as fast as we can,” said Draco worriedly. “Need to get that out of the way so that we can go and fight.”

“Don’t be absurd, you can’t go and fight,” said Kit as they kept running, heads turning all over to fight where the bust could be. “They can’t see you. You ought to get Ginny and bring her back in to wait with you.”

“And leave you off to fight on your own?” said Draco. “Are you mad? Wait— P— Harry— there!”

There it was, right ahead, on a blistered old cupboard. The pock-marked stone warlock wearing a dusty, old wig and what looked like an ancient, discoloured tiara. 

“Brilliant,” said Harry, looking pleased. Kit supposed it was good they had three Seekers in the room to spot shiny important things. 

“Oi!” came a gruff voice. “Draco!”

He stopped and turned as Harry moved forward. Behind them, Crabbe and Goyle had come in behind them— they hadn’t even realized. “You’re wanted,” Crabbe said with his unnaturally soft voice that Kit had only heard a few times before. “We’re going to be rewarded if we bring you and Potter in to the Dark Lord. You too, Thompson, but your father’s the one that wants you…”

“Like hell you are,” sneered Draco. “How the hell did you even get in?”

“We was hiding in the corridor outside,” grunted Goyle. “We can do Disslusion Charms now! And then, you turned up right in front of us and said you was looking for a die-dum! What’s a die-dum?”

“Hello?” Ron’s voice echoed suddenly from the other side of the wall to their right. “Are you talking to someone?”

With a whip-like movement, Crabbe pointed his wand at the fifty-foot mountain of old furniture, of broken trunks, of old books and robes and unidentifiable junk and shouted, “Descendo!”

“Ron, Su, get out of here!” yelled Kit as Draco pointed back at the objects and yelled, _“Finite!”_

“You’ve picked the wrong side, Malfoy,” said Crabbe in a low growl. “You an’ your dad are finished, forever—”

“Kit, what’s going on?” cried Su from the other side.

“What’s going on?” mimicked Crabbe. “What’s going— no, Potter! _Crucio_!”

But Kit was faster, and she blocked his curse right as Harry lunged for the tiara. Unfortunately, she was knocked back into Harry, causing the diadem to soar upwards and drop out of sight in the mass of other objects. 

“For fuck’s sake!” snarled Draco, pointing his wand at Crabbe. “Out, now! I don’t give a damn if I have to hex you!”

“What’ve they got on you, Malfoy?” asked Goyle. “Why’re you helping ‘em?”

Draco sneered over at them. “Nothing. If you two don’t clear out, I’ll kill you, I don’t care! Let me remind you who’s more powerful here— me!”

Ron and Su had appeared from behind, and Crabbe whirled around. “ _Avada Kedavra_!” he yelled, and Su dived back to avoid the curse.

“Oi!” snapped Ron. “That’s my girlfriend! _Expelliarmus_!”

Goyle’s wand flew out of his hand, and Crabbe wasted no time in casting another Killing Curse, though this one was nowhere near any of them— Draco had tackled him to the ground and yanked his wand right out of his hand. “Stop— Crabbe— STOP IT!”

“GET OFF ME, MALFOY!” Crabbe roared as Goyle tried to get his wand. Behind, Harry and Kit were diving into the pile of objects trying to find the diadem.

“Got it!” cried Kit, holding it up as her palm wrapped around it. “Su— get out! Get out!”

Su didn’t need to be told twice. Grabbing Ron, she tore toward the door. Goyle wrapped his hand around his wand, but Harry fired a Disarming Spell, and it flew back away. This time, Goyle didn’t try to retrieve it. Seeing Crabbe and Draco were wrestling on the floor, he changed his mind, and instead, ran after Su and Ron.

“Crabbe— Crabbe stop it—” spat Draco. “Kit— Harry— get out!”

Kit handed the diadem to Harry and pushed him forward and he began to run, but she grabbed onto Crabbe and pulled him back. He kicked Draco right in the chest and snapped up his wand, trying to fire at Kit, but instead, sending a spell toward the back of the room. A roaring, billowing noise behind them gave them a moment’s warning, and they saw flames of an abnormal size were growing and making their way toward them.

Draco sprang up and punched Crabbe in the face as Kit held his arms down. He pushed Crabbe aside and grabbed Kit’s hand, beginning to run. “Fiendfyre!” yelled Draco as he pulled her forward behind Harry. “Run— just run— and if something happens to me, don’t you dare look back—”

A green jet of light soared over their heads, just narrowly missing them. Behind, Crabbe had the wand that Draco had been using as well as his own, and now, he was trying to kill them.

“You’re both wanted dead!” he snarled as he ran after them. “The Dark Lord will be pleased when he sees— AHHHH!”

They didn’t dare turn around. The roar of flames behind them let them know that Crabbe had not made it. Kit and Draco were both panting like animals trying to run as fast as they could out of the room. They jumped out of the doorway and Harry slammed it shut behind them, the door vanishing as flames engulfed the entire room.

“Holy fuck,” gasped Kit, her body shaking as she saw Goyle staring at the door, eyes wide. He was now wandless, and without a second look at Draco, he ran off. The castle shook violently around them as Su and Ron yanked Draco and Kit to their feet.

“The Basilisk fang, hurry,” said Harry, though he looked down and saw that flames had scorched the diadem already. It was hot and blackened with soot. “Wait— what? It nearly nicked me, but the diadem did get hit—”

“Of course!” cried Su. “It was Fiendfyre— cursed fire! It destroys Horcruxes. Hermione told me that it was something we could have used but since it’s so dangerous, we never ever suggested it.”

Draco made a grim expression. “Well, Crabbe must have learned that from the Carrows… is this a good thing?”

“Yes,” said Kit immediately. “It’s gone— that means we just have one more Horcrux, right?”

“The snake,” confirmed Harry. “If we can just get the snake—”

But he broke off as yells and shouts and the unmistakable noises of duelling filled the corridor. Kit looked around and her heart seemed to fail: Death Eaters had penetrated Hogwarts. Fred and Percy had just backed into view, both of them duelling masked and hooded men.

They ran forward to help, but Draco quickly screeched to a halt. “Shit— I haven’t got a wand—”

“Go and hide,” said Kit, pushing him back. “Doesn’t matter where, just hide. You shouldn’t be out here, not at all, alright?”

“But I can’t just leave you, Kit Kat,” said Draco. “I can’t—”

The air exploded where Harry, Ron, and Su had gone to join Fred and Percy in fighting the fie Death Eaters that had infiltrated the castle. The force of it sent Draco and Kit flying back, though they were not close enough to where it’d happened to be hurt. There were screams everywhere, and there was a cloud of dust and cold air— the side of the castle had been blown away and now, more people where screaming…

Kit got to her feet. “Draco, go, now!” she demanded. “Please— now!”

He pulled her in for a kiss before darting off. She sprinted the other way, finding Percy holding Fred, whose head was bleeding. The five Death Eaters were dead, but Fred was barely conscious.

“Give him here!” cried Kit, sliding painfully onto her knees. “Alright, Percy, here—” She tore off a piece of her shirt without hesitation. “Press that right here, that’s it—”

Fred started trying to speak but Kit shook her head. “No, no, don’t try and talk right now— someone— hold his damn hand, this is going to hurt—”

Ron staggered forward from where he’d been shielding Su, and grasped Fred’s hand as Kit wove her wand delicately over where the blood was coming out. Fred let out a terrible cry of pain, his eyes rolling back a bit.

“What the hell is happening?” cried Percy. “What—”

“His brain was bleeding, it’s fixing itself, please— hold him still—”

Another round of the spell. They could hear shouts coming from the down the corridor— more fighters either for their side or the other were on their way. Fred gave a hoarse cry as Kit kept mending him, and at last, she stopped. “Percy, you’ve got to carry him, he won’t be able to move on his own— get him somewhere safe where he can lay down. Don’t let him overexert himself—”

Percy didn’t need to be told twice. He yanked his brother up and tore down the hall with his limp brother in tow. A series of curses shot through the night outside, and there was another scream. “Over here!”

It was Hermione and Blaise, making their way back from the kitchens. “Come— this way—”

Ron, Su, Harry, and Kit began to run at full speed toward them, seeing that behind them, within the castle, were more screams and terrible indicators that the Death Eaters were gaining ground within the castle.

“In here!” hissed Hermione, pulling Harry first behind a tapestry the others followed, and she shook Harry by his shoulders. “You need to find out where Voldemort is, because he’ll have the snake with him, won’t he? Do it, Harry— look inside him!”

Harry’s eyes immediately closed, and the group remained deathly silent amidst the cries of pain and fury all around them. Kit had to force herself not to look back, not to think of Draco and where he’d gone off to.

“He’s in the Shrieking Shack,” said Harry. “The snake’s with him— it’s got some sort of magical protection around it. He’s just sent Lucius Malfoy to find Snape.”

“Voldemort’s sitting in the Shrieking Shack?” said Hermione, outraged. “He’s not— he’s not even fighting?”

“He doesn’t think he needs to fight,” said Harry. “He thinks I’m going to go to him. He knows I’m after Horcruxes— he’s keeping Nagini close beside him— obviously I’m going to have to go to him to get near the thing—”

“Alana,” said Kit immediately. “I have— I have to get Alana out of the curse. She can help us, I bet—”

“Let’s all move, then,” said Harry. “Now.”


	99. Chapter 99

**They were ambushed on their way to the Shrieking Shack, as expected.**

Two masked Death Eaters had stopped them on their way, but Hermione had shouted, _“Glisseo!”_ and the stairs beneath their feet flattened into a chute and the six of them hurtled down, unable to control their speed but so fast that the Death Eaters’ Stunning Spells flew far over their heads. They shot through the concealing tapestry at the bottom and spun on to the floor, hitting the opposite wall.

 _“Duro!”_ cried Kit as they landed, her wand pointed at the tapestry. There were two loud, sickening crunches as the tapestry turned to stone and the Death Eaters pursuing them crumpled against it. 

“Get back!” shouted Ron, and they flattened themselves against a door as a herd of galloping desks thundered past, shepherded by a sprinting Professor McGonagall. She appeared not to notice them: her hair had come down and there was a gash on her cheek. As she turned the corner, they heard her scream: “CHARGE!”

They ran down the next staircase and found themselves in a corridor full of duellers. The portraits on either side of the fighters were crammed with figures, screaming advice and encouragement, while Death Eaters both masked and unmasked duelled students and teachers. Dean had won himself a wand, for he was face to face with Rookwood, Parvati with Travers. However, when Travers saw Su behind Parvati, he forgot her, and launched forward, but Su was ready, and she did not hold back.

 _“Avada Kedavra!”_ she shouted angrily, the jet of green light hitting Travers straight in the chest and sending him crashing down. Parvati took the chance to join Dean in his fight with Rookwood, who they soon overpowered.

“Blimey,” said Ron. “Good one, Su.”

As they passed Travers, she spat on his face. “That was for my father,” she said before they continued down the hallway. They heard a great ‘wheeee!” and looked up to see Peeves zooming over them, dropping Snargaluff pods down on to the Death Eaters, whose heads were suddenly engulfed in wriggling, green tubers like fat worms.

There were more duellers all over the stairs and in the Hall, Death Eaters everywhere Kit looked: Yaxley, close to the front doors, in combat with Flitwick, a masked Death Eater duelling Kingsley right beside them. Students ran in every direction, some carrying or dragging injured friends. She directed a Stunning Spell towards the masked Death Eater, it missed but nearly hit Neville, who had emerged from nowhere brandishing armfuls of Venomous Tentacula, which looped itself happily around the nearest Death Eater and began reeling him in. 

Her father and Alana were nowhere in sight. They must still be outside, meaning she needed to stay with the group.

They sped down the marble staircase, glass shattered to their left and right. Two bodies fell from the balcony overhead as they reached the ground and a grey blur that Kit took for an animal sped four legged across the hall to sink its teeth into one of the fallen.

“NO!” shrieked Hermione, and with a deafening blast from her wand Fenrir Greyback was thrown backwards from the feebly stirring body of Lavender Brown. He hit the marble banisters and struggled to return to his feet. Then, with a bright white flash and a crack, a crystal ball fell on the top of his head and he crumpled to the ground and did not move.

“I have more!” shrieked Professor Trelawney from over the banisters, “more for any who want them! Here—”

And with a movement like a tennis serve, she heaved another enormous crystal sphere from her bag, waved her wand through the air, and caused the ball to speed across the hall and smash through a window. At the same moment, the heavy wooden front doors burst open, and more of the gigantic spiders forced their way into the Entrance Hall.

Screams of terror rent the air: the fighters scattered, Death Eaters and Hogwartians alike, and red and green jets of light flew into the midst of the oncoming monsters, which shuddered and reared, more terrifying than ever.

“How do we get out?” yelled Blaise over all the screaming, but before anyone could answer him, Hagrid had come thundering down the stairs, brandishing his flowery pink umbrella.

“Don’t hurt ’em, don’t hurt ’em!” he yelled. 

“HAGRID, NO!” Harry yelled, bolting toward him. “HAGRID, COME BACK!”

But he was not even halfway to Hagrid when he saw it happen: Hagrid vanished amongst the spiders, and with a great scurrying, a foul swarming movement, they retreated under the onslaught of spells, Hagrid buried in their midst.

“HAGRID!” Harry bellowed, the whole group sprinting after him. “HAGRID!”

There was barely a chance to see clearly, but Kit thought she could make out an enormous arm waving from the midst of the spider swarm, but as Harry made to chase after them, his way was impeded by a monumental foot, which swung down out of the darkness and made the ground shudder, causing Kit to scream.

A giant stood right before Harry, and the others behind him came to a screeching halt. Twenty feet high, its head hidden in shadow, nothing but its tree-like, hairy shins illuminated by light from the castle doors. With one brutal, fluid movement, it smashed a massive fist through an upper window and glass rained down upon Harry, forcing him back under the shelter of the doorway, pulled by Blaise, who had been closest to him.

“Oh my—!” shrieked Hermione as they looked up and saw the giant now trying to seize people through the window above. She raised her wand but Su stopped her. “Don’t! Stun him and he’ll crush half the castle—”

“HAGGER?”

“Is that—?” cried Kit.

Grawp came lurching round the corner of the castle. He was indeed an undersized giant, and Kit didn’t get to ponder on this first ever look at him. The gargantuan monster trying to crush people on the upper floors looked around and let out a roar. The stone steps trembled as he stomped towards his smaller kin, and Grawp’s lopsided mouth fell open, showing yellow, half-brick-sized teeth, and then they launched themselves at each other with the savagery of lions.

“RUN!” Harry roared; the night was full of hideous yells and blows as the giants wrestled, and he seized Hermione and Kit’s hands and tore down the steps into the grounds, Ron bringing up the rear with Su and Blaise, who were looking over their shoulders and seeing if they could cast any spells to aid the other fighters, but it was all too risky.

The air around them had frozen when they made it into the open air. Shapes moved out in the darkness, swirling figures of concentrated blackness, moving in a great wave towards the castle, their faces hooded and their breath rattling. They all stopped abruptly as the sounds of fighting behind them grew suddenly muted, deadened, because a silence only Dementors could bring was falling thickly through the night…

“Patronuses,” said Kit. “Patronuses— come on—”

Harry was the first to raise his wand, but he couldn’t do it. None of them could. They were staring at an onslaught headed their way— there were more here than there had been at the Ministry...

_“Expecto Patronum!”_

From behind them, five different voices yelled out in unison. Kit whirled around as a silver hare burst from Luna’s wand, followed by a boar made by Ernie Macmillan, a fox by Seamus, and two gigantic whales from Terry and Anthony.

“That’s right,” said Luna encouragingly. “That’s right, you can all do it…”

Kit faced back towards the dementors and thrust her wand into the air. The bear was followed by two similar terriers, two otters, and finally, the stag. The eleven Patronuses crashed into the Dementors with a force unlike anything Kit had ever seen, and the darkness faded briefly as silver light exploded all around them, the air clearing.

“Can’t thank you enough,” said Blaise to Luna and the other boys. “You— KIT! It’s Alana!”

Kit whirled to face where he was looking, and she saw that Remus, Sirius, and Tonks were caught in a terrible duel with her father and Alana. 

The earth shook beneath her as another giant went their way, and Harry shouted, the lot of them scattering. Nothing mattered anymore— Kit would not make the Shrieking Shack her priority. Su and Blaise were somewhere behind her, and soon, they were beside her, going toward where Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley were battling three other masked Death Eaters.

It was a miracle that neither Alana nor Kenneth noticed Kit running their way. Her wand was out and ready, and she prayed to whatever God or gods that would hear her that this spell would work, that this had bypassed her father’s little tricks, that Alana would survive it, and that she would be free, and she would help them—

Kenneth had just become aware of someone coming toward them when Kit cast the spell, a jet of crimson-purple light hitting Alana right in the chest. She staggered back, and clutched her head. Kenneth turned to Kit, but Tonks dove between them, keeping him from hitting her with what surely was a brutal, custom-made curse.

“NO!” he snarled. “No— idiot girl— no—”

But he was too late to do anything about Alana. Sirius had pulled her back, and Alana glared at her father, her wand raised and pointed toward him.

“Impossible,” Kenneth hissed. “It’s not— not possible—”

“You don’t think your own progeny have the brains to undo the damage you did?” snarled Alana. Her voice was much softer than Kit had heard it before— this was the real her. “You made a mistake. You should have killed me. Because now, I’m going to kill you, just like you killed my mother.”

Kenneth sank to his knees. Kit had never seen him look so defeated, so afraid. He knew his time had run out. He knew that he had lost. He had never anticipated that Kit would have matched his skill, that Kit would have found the countercurse. “No,” he pleaded, as if Alana would have mercy on him. “Please— I— I’m sorry—”

“You’re not sorry,” Alana said darkly as she stepped forward. A green light exploded out of her wand, and Kenneth’s body sank back, eyes wide open. “That was more mercy than she ever got,” she whispered as she dropped her wand. Inside the castle, they could still hear battle raging, but the outside was no longer so noisy— Blaise and Su were making their way over with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Alana turned to Sirius, and clutched his shoulders. “Baby,” she breathed. “The baby— you had no idea, and I couldn’t tell you—”

“You miscarried,” said Sirius, his eyes welling up with tears as she swayed in his arms. “Hey— hey, you’re alright—”

“Not just the other day,” said Alana, her legs beginning to tremble. Kit imagined she must have been pretending to be fine so that she could get rid of Kenneth. “Sirius, our baby— the baby— I had only found out when— when they married me to Rabastan— I was pregnant. It was yours— I couldn’t tell my father, he— he put me under—”

She sank down, and Sirius picked her up. She started to whimper, and Kit’s face paled. “Alana!” she cried, running to her sister. “No— no— the spell— I-I must have made a mistake— it’s killing her—”

“No, sister,” said Alana weakly as she turned to face her. “You… you did it right. I’m being… assaulted by all the memories I’d forgotten. I’m okay— just… need rest—”

“Sirius, get her out of here,” Kit said immediately, brushing back Alana’s hair. 

“Thank you,” breathed Alana, sitting up and kissing Kit’s cheek. “We’re free, sister. We’re free… all his his victims…”

“That’s right,” said Remus from behind. “Alastor— he told us. All his victims will be free of his control now that he’s dead.”

“Good,” said Kit, taking Alana’s hand. “Go somewhere safe. Please, don’t stay here.”

“We’ll go to Grimmauld Place, don’t worry,” said Sirius with a smile. He began to run with Alana in his arms just as Voldemort’s voice began to reverberate all around the surrounding area of Hogwarts.

“You have fought,” he spoke, “valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat, immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.

“I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour.”

There was a deathly silence that ensued. There was a sound of scuffling, and Death Eaters began to exit the castle, some carrying others who were wounded and others who were dead. They put their masks on, not wanting their identities to be known. There were not many left— certainly, there had to be more survivors on the Order’s side.

Small bundles seemed to litter the lawn at the front of the castle as the group made their way back into the castle. It could only be an hour or so from dawn, yet it was pitch black. They hurried towards the stone steps. A lone clog, the size of a small boat, lay abandoned in front of them. There was no other sign of Grawp or of his attacker.

The castle was unnaturally silent. There were no flashes of light now, no bangs or screams or shouts. The flagstones of the deserted Entrance Hall were stained with blood. Emeralds were still scattered all over the floor along with pieces of marble and splintered wood. Part of the banisters had been blown away.

They entered the Great Hall. The house tables were gone and the room was crowded. The survivors stood in groups, their arms around each other’s necks. The injured were being treated up on the raised platform by Madam Pomfrey and a group of helpers. Firenze was amongst the injured; his flank poured blood and he shook where he lay, unable to stand.

The dead lay in a row in the middle of the hall. Kit did not look— she brushed past toward Madam Pomfrey and dropped down beside all of the injured, beginning to do everything that she could to help. Some were just mildly banged up— bruised and a bit bloody, but they’d survive. Some injuries were more severe, such as Lavender Brown, who had sustained quite a bit of blood loss. Fred was sitting up near the end, but he looked disoriented as his parents crowded him, asking if he was alright. He would be alright, Kit knew that. It would just take time for his head to feel better.

Kit was trying desperately not to think of Draco. She didn’t see him anywhere, not amongst the injured. She turned toward the dead, but he did not stand out. It was with a pang in her heart instead, that she recognized some of her peers. She did not see any faces that immediately made her panic, but it was with great sadness that she fixated on several faces of students who were underage, but must have snuck back in to fight.

“Kit,” came a voice behind her after what felt like a million years of doing Healing Spells and clearing away blood. She turned to see Su. “We can’t find Harry— he’s just vanished.”

“What do you mean he’s vanished?” she said, setting down her wand. “Where could he have gone?”

“I dunno— one minute we were all here kind of figuring out to help, and the next, he was nowhere to be found. Hermione and Ron went to search for him. We still need to get that bloody snake.”

“No doubt it’s with the Dark Lord,” said Kit, rubbing her hands together. “But why would Harry just run off?” Her eyes then widened. “Oh… oh no— he’s— he’s going to hand himself over.”

“What?” cried Su. “What— he wouldn’t! You don’t think—?”

“I think that’s exactly what he’s planning to do,” she said, yanking Su’s hand. “Come on, we’ve got to go find him.” She then added, “have you seen Draco? Or has anyone seen Draco, that you know of?”

“No,” Su answered grimly. “I don’t think anyone’s seen him.”

Kit’s face went pale. “He hasn’t got a wand. I don’t know where he could have gone to hide—”

“OVER HERE!”

They came to a screeching halt. Behind them, the survivors were pouring out of the Great Hall and onto the grounds. Su and Kit shared a confused look and followed them out, seeing that from within the Forbidden Forest, a mass of Death Eaters was coming out— all of the ones who had survived. In the lead was Hagrid, and to their horror, he had a body in his arms. 

Harry.

“NO!” screamed Professor McGonagall near the front, staggering back and being caught by Professor Sprout. From the ranks, a cackle came— Bellatrix. She was laughing at McGonagall's despair.

Voldemort himself, with Nagini the snake slithering beside him, stepped out to the front of the group as several more terrified gasps followed.

“HARRY!” screamed Ginny, having to be held back by George. “HARRY— NO! NO!”

Ron and Hermione had appeared, and Hermione let out the most anguished wail, turning away and burying her face in Blaise’s chest as though she didn’t want to believe— as though she couldn’t possibly imagine that this was true.

Kit was staring, her eyes wide. This couldn’t be happening. Not Harry. Not her friend. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. They couldn’t have gone through all of that just for Harry to end up dead. How thankful she was that Sirius wasn’t here, but how angry she was that he wouldn’t know until later that Harry was dead—

The survivors all around her were yelling at the Death Eaters, screaming and snarling profanities all over. They were furious. Crying. In a panic. What would they do without Harry? How could it have come to this?

“SILENCE!” cried Voldemort, and there was a bang and a flash of bright light, and silence was forced upon them all. “It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!”

Slowly, Hagrid lowered Harry onto the grass. 

“You see?” said Voldemort, striding backwards and forwards right beside the place where he lay. “Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!”

“He beat you!” yelled Ron, and the charm broke. 

Kit joined him. “HE FUCKING BEAT YOU!” she screamed angrily as the other defenders of Hogwarts started shouting and screaming again until a second, more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more.

“He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds,” said Voldemort, and there was relish in his voice for the lie, “killed while trying to save himself—”

Neville lunged forward, and no one could hold him back. He shouted and fired a spell, causing a loud bang to sound into the air. A flash of light and a grunt of pain followed— Voldemort had retaliated, and Neville staggered, hitting the ground, disarmed, his wand taken by Voldemort, who laughed and dropped the wand carelessly to the floor. 

“And who is this?” he said, in his soft snake’s hiss. “Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?”

Bellatrix gave a delighted laugh. “It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?”

“Ah, yes, I remember,” said Voldemort, looking down at Neville, who was struggling back to his feet, unarmed and unprotected, standing in the no-man’s-land between the survivors and the Death Eaters. “But you are a pure-blood, aren’t you, my brave boy?” Voldemort asked Neville, who stood facing him, his empty hands curled in fists.

“So what if I am?” said Neville loudly.

“You show spirit, and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom.”

“I’ll join you when hell freezes over,” said Neville. “Dumbledore’s Army!” he shouted, and there was an answering cheer from the crowd, as Kit and her peers shouted their approval. It seemed as though Voldemort’s silencing charms were not holding well. Kit could tell something was wrong, but she could not figure out why. There was still a Horcrux, the snake was still there… 

“Very well,” said Voldemort silkily. “If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head,” he said quietly, “be it.”

He wove his wand, and seconds later, out of one of the castle’s shattered windows, something that looked like a misshapen bird flew through the half-light and landed in Voldemort’s hand. He shook the mildewed object by its pointed end and it dangled, empty and ragged: the Sorting Hat.

“There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School,” said Voldemort. “There will be no more houses. The emblem, shield and colours of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone, won’t they, Neville Longbottom?”

“Never!” cried Neville. But Voldemort pointed his wand at him, and Neville went rigid and still. The cruel man stepped forward and forced the Hat onto Neville’s head so that it slipped down below his eyes. The Death Eaters all raised their wands, and the other side followed.

Except for Kit. 

She dug into her pocket and nearly let out a loud curse. Her wand had been left behind in the Great Hall. 

“Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me,” said Voldemort, and with a flick of his wand, he caused the Sorting Hat to burst into flames.

Screams split the dawn, and Neville was aflame, rooted to the spot, unable to move.

And then, from the Hogwarts crowd, a lone figure burst out. Draco, still wandless, had run out, having been hidden behind, and tore into the center, right in front of Voldemort, snatching the burning Hat right off of Neville, and helping him to his feet.

“You dare..?” hissed Voldemort, his Death Eaters tittering behind him. They did not know whether to act or not. Kit could see in the crowd, Narcissa and Lucius were staring at their son, terrified. 

And she knew what she had to do. She knew that there was no way that he was going to get out of it. No one on the Hogwarts side could possibly save him. 

Desperate, foolish, but her last thought was him in her arms, him safe, against her chest. She tore forward and he caught her, embracing her tight enough that the air escaped her lungs just as he buried his face in her neck. Her eyes came to a close, a final sigh of relief escaping her chapped lips. 

“I love you,” Draco managed weakly.

“And I love you,” she burst out, pulling away so that she could look into his eyes. “So much.”

She held his gaze for one final moment, smiling at him as he smiled back, even as the green flash erupted from behind them.


	100. Epilogue

Burying the bodies of the fallen and informing the families was devastating. Harry had never felt such guilt as he saw the faces of those who died fighting for him. 

He didn't want to think that Draco and Kit had never gotten to know that he was really alive. He didn't want to think of the fact that they would never learn that their sacrifices had been the key to winning the war, because with their deaths, Voldemort's control had broke, and Neville had killed Nagini after pulling the sword of Godric Gryffindor from the Sorting Hat that Draco had torn off of his head. 

Their friends had been in shock. After all that Kit and Draco had survived, they had met their end far too young. The only comfort they had was knowing that it had been painless for them, and that they had died holding each other, never to be apart again, not even in the afterlife.

But things changed for the better almost immediately. 

They used their pain and turned it into drive for improvements. Policies and therapy and talks that had them discussing how to better their world so that no such thing would ever happen again. 

Blaise and Hermione were the first to wed from their little group. They had returned to Hogwarts to finish their seventh year properly, and when they had graduated, he had proposed. The next summer, they married, and eventually, they both began to work in the Ministry to enact all the change they sought out firsthand. Partners in fighting the establishments and using the law and their logic to demand rights for those who’d never had any before. Succeeding, starting a family, moving into a beautiful house near the forest with a patio that Blaise himself had built with hanging lights so that he could ask Hermione to dance with him every night, if she wished to, and a gigantic library with more books than what’d even been in Zabini Manor. Blessed with two daughters and a son, Katherine Alana Granger-Zabini, Isabelle Athena Granger-Zabini, and Nathaniel Edward Granger-Zabini, the children got to grow up with the patient and loving Edward and Jean Granger, reunited with Hermione, as well as the enthusiastic and kind Harriet Zabini, who had grown much closer with Blaise over the years. They got to live with the best older cousin, Nancy, and their kind aunt Andrea and uncle Nehemiah. 

It had taken Su and Ron some time, but they worked their way up not long after. They both went into the Auror program, seeking to create a stronger group that would continue to work as a part of the Order of the Phoenix, and after they were certified, Su asked Ron to be her husband. It took them time to decide on where they wanted to live, but they settled on a house with a field big enough to serve as a Quidditch pitch in the back, which was absolutely perfect when they began to have kids. Alexander and Arthur Weasley were born as fraternal twins who grew quite close to their uncles Fred and George, as well as their cousins George and Fred, respectfully. With parents who were strong, hard-working Aurors but as always, Quidditch fanatics, they grew to love the sport and got to travel all over Europe to watch matches in real time, which helped them and their cousins become very good players by the time they went to Hogwarts. They never had to know poverty or not having a parent around, rather got to enjoy being taught to fly and being encouraged to do their best, always. 

Harry had proposed to Ginny not long after she started playing Quidditch professionally. They had had a quiet wedding, with just their family and friends, but had been the highlight of the media for long after, who marveled at how the famous Boy-Who-Lived had managed to catch the affections of the Holyhead Harpies prodigy. Harry had watched her matches diligently in between training to become an Auror, but had deviated from his job not long after their first son, James Sirius Potter, was born, as Ginny wanted to retire and work at Hogwarts as the Flying Professor and Quidditch referee. Harry had begun to study to become the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, and was a stay-at-home dad between his studies in order to care for a toddler James and the little Rubeus Aberforth. He became a Professor by the time their final two daughters, Lily Luna and Molly Minerva were born, and the children got to be raised in the most magical way that Harry could have hoped for— something he wished he’d have had when he was younger. Troublemakers, like their parents, but each with the qualities of their namesakes, brave and caring like no other. 

It took much longer for them, but in 2014, Terry and Anthony were legally allowed to be married to each other. They had traveled together in the years before that, cleverly using the stock market to their advantage and becoming successful in offering economic and legal advice to many of their friends, following their studies in order to be granted degrees in those areas. When they were able to be recognized as a proper couple, they celebrated for days with the love and attention of their unofficial nieces and nephews who were overjoyed that their uncles could finally be happy, and acknowledged in the world. They adopted a little baby boy not long after, named Francis, who became the light of their life and a very adorable new addition to the growing family of friends that the pair had acquired since their Hogwarts days. They worked hard to give their son a comfortable life filled with laughs and the sort of acceptance that neither had had in their youth. They planned to adopt another child by the time Francis was old enough to have a say in it, wanting their family to progress the way that they deserved, because they were the perfect parents for any child who had lost theirs. 

Though Alana and Sirius never had children of their own, they tied the knot soon after their reunion, and served as wonderful influences for the children of the others, especially their eldest nephew Teddy, who was raised by Remus and Tonks with lots of help from his grandma Andromeda. Years later, Tonks and Remus had had one final child, and saw it fit to name him Draco Raphael Lupin, born on the exact same day as Blaise and Hermione’s daughter Katherine. That day, they shed quite a bit of tears.

Together, they had enforced the change that was needed. They honored the sacrifices of their friends and family members, fostering a world where no child would ever grow up abused and ashamed, the way Kit and Draco did. They helped to write laws that would help lycanthropes like Remus, Bill, and Lavender Brown be seen and not discriminated against. They advocated for curriculums that would teach young minds the truly important things in life without restriction. 

They missed Kit and Draco every day. They hated that they’d been lost in the manner that they had, but they knew they were watching over them, and did not regret their sacrifice. After all, what better way to go out, than fighting for what they believed in, and to defend the family that they had made after their own had not fostered the best environment.

They were blood traitors, but they were damn selfless ones.


	101. Final Author's Note

That concludes Blood Traitor. I'm crying as I write this out. 

On December 10th, 2019, I sent Jakob a text showing him the information for a new OC I’d made: Katherine Thompson. 

On December 21st, 2019, I sent Jakob my first draft for Blood Traitor’s Prologue. 

On May 12th, 2020, I texted Jakob telling him I wanted to write Kit her story already. 

All through July, we discussed its logistics, and on July 24th, 2020, Blood Traitor was published. 

On December 2nd, 2020, I officially decided that Kit and Draco would die at the end.

This story went by faster than I could have expected. Most of the major plot twists and ideas were on a whim— literally straight outta my ass two seconds before hitting publish. But I sought to make a more thrilling and painful story than I had in the past and I think that I managed it. 

Thank you, first and foremost, to Jakob, because over the course of this year, he listened and critiqued every crazy idea I had and helped me turn Kit into what she is. 

Kit’s story was never meant to be a happy one. It was not meant to end with a cute Epilogue like my past stories, featuring children and fun jobs. Everything I included here was fueled from previous hate comments on my other fics. I did my best to make Kit intelligent but flawed. To make Draco not out of character. To fabricate and develop my own plot. I think, personally, I did well on this, and thus, because I created such a new world around Kit, I saw it fitting to be realistic and cause both her and Draco to fall victim to the terrible fate they were born with, as a Thompson and a Malfoy. 

I am proud of myself, and I hope that you all enjoyed this as much as I did. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to top what I did here, creating such an intricate and original character that I wish would have been in the actual series. This was the longest story I have ever made in terms of pages and chapters, and if you liked it, I hope you’ll recommend it to others. 

I don’t know what fics I’ll write in the future. I wrote through this during my first semesters of college, and from here, it will only get more difficult. If this is my last Harry Potter fic, then I want to be happy that this went as well as it did.

Thank you to everyone who read and interacted with this story. I hope you loved Kit as much as I did, and I hope, perhaps, it taught you something. 

Mischief Managed, 

Sprinting Fox


	102. Alternate Ending!

_A/N: Hi so I’ve been feeling very depressed with how this ended (even though it was planned), so to give us all some closure, I wrote this alternate ending. Note— this is not real. Kit and Draco died in ‘canon’ for this story, but this is a nice little snippet that might help me stop bawling. Without further ado, here is: Alternate Reality, 2017._

**“I got a day off for this, we have to go!”**

Draco grumbled and covered his face with the pillow. “It’s too early, we were supposed to sleep in.”

Kit yanked the pillow out from under him. “We made a commitment to be good godparents and a good aunt and uncle to these kids. They’re all excited, we can’t miss it.”

Draco conceded. He got up and pecked her lips before going into their bathroom and cleaning himself up. He was ready ten minutes later. “You owe me,” he said playfully.

“Yes, yes, I know, more of my terrible massages and some more patient stories,” Kit said, taking his hand and pulling him out of their little house.

In a world where they did not die during the Battle of Hogwarts, Kit and Draco got married after they finished their seventh year alongside Blaise and Hermione. Kit became the Healer she’d always wanted to be, and he became a Potions consultant for the Ministry and St. Mungo’s, meaning he often got to see Kit while she worked so that he could assist in developments for new remedies and other curriculum matters when it came to Hogwarts.

They had no children, but were surrounded by them. They met up with the others often when Remus and Tonks were raising Teddy in his first years. Bill and Fleur had been the first to add on, in 2000, with the birth of Victoire. In 2002, two new additions had been announced: Blaise and Hermione were expecting a baby girl, and Remus and Tonks were expecting a baby boy once again. To honor the promise Blaise had made Kit years ago, they planned to name their daughter Katherine Alana Granger-Zabini, and when Tonks gave birth on the exact same day, they saw it fitting to name their son Draco Raphael Lupin.

Draco and Kit were touched, of course, and became godparents to both children. Of course, they were the favorite aunt and uncle, because they had the same names. When the others went on and started having their own children, they were more than happy to spoil them rotten with the excess Thompson and Malfoy money they didn’t need. They were comfortable as they were, and used all their funds to help spoil their nephews and nieces, as well as donate to the right charities so that no one need ever struggle to get by.

The two arrived at King’s Cross Station ten minutes before the train was set to leave. Nearer the train, Blaise and Hermione ushered the younger Katherine (who chose to be called Kat in order to complete what she called ‘Uncle Draco and younger Draco's Kit Kat set’) and their daughter Isabelle forward as Nathaniel waited behind, still too young to attend Hogwarts, though it would soon be his turn.

“Aunt Kit!” cried Kat, coming over and throwing her arms around her. “You came! Uncle Draco— the other Draco is being a prat, he said—”

“Kat,” said Blaise sternly as he picked up Nathaniel. “What did your mum and I say about calling people ‘prat?’”

Kat frowned. “Well, you said I couldn’t say it because Aunt Kit always says it and it’s a bad habit to get into but I thought you could make an exception because I made Ravenclaw Prefect.”

Hermione smiled. “Alright, I suppose we can excuse that, but don’t make a habit of—”

There was a loud squeal as Draco Lupin ran forward to tackle Kat, nearly knocking her down. “I got Gryffindor Prefect, ha!”

“Ha!” mocked Kat, shoving him off playfully. Draco caught himself, then went to his namesake, showing off the shiny Prefect badge. “My mum says you were Prefect too! But for Slytherin.”

“That’s right, I was,” said Draco, ruffling his hair. “You two got taller already, you’re nearly my height.”

“You’re not growing anymore, Draco,” called Teddy teasingly as he helped bring in his brother’s luggage. Behind him, Remus and Tonks followed, greeting Su and Ron along the way, as they’d arrived at the same time.

“Hello, twins,” said Kit after she went to give Isabelle and Nathaniel a kiss on the forehead. Arthur and Alexander were starting this year at Hogwarts along with Isabelle and their cousin Rubeus Potter. 

“The other twins are late,” pointed out Alexander, looking back to see that Harry and Ginny were running in behind James and Rubeus, dragging along Lily and Molly, who were looking sleepy.

“Sorry,” said Harry loudly. “Molly couldn’t find her socks and well, we can’t go back home, Ginny and I have to be ready to run with them to the castle right as the train stops so that we can be at the feast with the other Professors and get the girls to their rooms.”

“Well, with four kids, what did you expect?” questioned Draco as me moved forward and helped Harry with all the trunks. “At least the girls will be at Hogwarts soon, then you needn’t be rushing about.”

Molly came forward and held her hands up to Draco as Kit greeted the others who arrived. He scooped her up. “How’s our littlest niece doing today?”

The little girl made a face. “I’m not the littlest! Francis is!”

“Ah, but Francis is too little to come today, and he's technically a nephew. Your uncles Terry and Anthony are still at home helping him learn to walk and talk properly. You already can do that.”

Lily ran over behind her sister and made a face, and Draco knelt down to pick her up as well. “You two be good at Hogwarts, alright? Don’t give your parents a hard time. They’re Professors, and they have to deal with all your cousins.”

Lily squealed. “Arthur’s the most annoying— him and James!”

“Arthur and Alexander will be nice, though, won’t they?” said Kit as Kat and Draco kissed their parents and went into the Prefect’s carriage, hands linked. James followed after shouting that he saw Teddy kissing their cousin Victoire, and Ginny ruffled Rubeus’s hair as he dragged Isabelle in with him.

“How’s Alana?” asked Su as the rest of the kids began to either wait behind or make their way into the train.

“Sends her greetings from Cairo,” Kit told her. “Sirius has her traveling everywhere. It’s sweet, I like it. She keeps saying that she feels so old now, but Sirius is helping to remind her she’s still young. Just because they can’t have kids anymore doesn’t make them ancient.”

Su smiled and gave her a side hug as Remus and Tonks followed Teddy back out of the station. “How are you and Draco? Still not planning to have kids?” 

“Nah,” said Draco, coming over and leaning onto his wife. “We’ve got each other. We don’t need anyone else. Plus, we have enough kids with all the ones you lot had.”

Because, in an alternate reality, where they were saved from the terrible fate that surely befell them as a Thompson and a Malfoy, they would have grown old together, just with each other.

Either way, they died happy, and they died together.


End file.
